Enchain
by Pentangle-linnon
Summary: Aragorn, Elrond, Twins, Erestor, Glorfindel. Danger comes from many sources. Some familiar, some forgotten. Some never recognized until it is too late.
1. Prologue

Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

Warning: Child abuse. Torture.

Characters: Aragorn, Elrond, Twins, Erestor, Glorfindel

_Italics: flashbacks _

/thoughts/

Aragorn is nearly 16; follows the "Buried" series chronologically but there are only two brief references to the series.

**Prologue **

It had taken him a long time, even by elven standards, to make his way to what was called a paradise of peace and security in their fading world. First an Age as a Wanderer, then to Lorien for a time, and finally, long years at the Havens. All the while he dreamed of great and triumphant deeds, though he was certain he would never have the nerve to attempt them. Nonetheless, a desire to turn dreams to reality grew greater as each year slid past until he could think of little else. His days became haunted by the driving need and then his nights as well, until he felt that only one elf could help him find peace. So he went to Imladris.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrond broke the seal and read the parchment that Cirdan had sent to him as a letter of introduction. He raised his eyes to the slight figure before him and observed him carefully. The elf was white-haired, but not like Lindir was; Lindir's hair glowed and swung, bouncing with its owner's vitality. This elf had grey-white hair that looked like it had never gleamed in its life. He was dressed in the ordinary tunic and leggings most appropriate for long journeys. They had probably once been red and russet but were now as dull and faded as his blue eyes. He was of medium height, but quite thin, and it was impossible to tell his age beyond noting that he was not young.

Elrond spoke gently, for somehow the elf seemed vulnerable. "Welcome to Imladris, Valendil. Cirdan says that of late years you do not sleep well and that the sea makes you restless but not with the Call. Have you thought of sailing anyway and finding ease in the Undying Lands?"

A voice with an unusual graininess answered him softly. "No, M'lord. There are things I must yet do before I find peace anywhere. I think I will be able to accomplish them here, if you will let me stay." No doubt Valendil was uncomfortable in the presence of a legend for he kept his eyes lowered for the most part. When he did look at Elrond, he drank in as much of the elf lord's appearance as his brief glances would allow. He was not sure what he felt—the ruler of Imladris was both like and unlike his expectations.

"We will find a place for you while you seek your peace. Have you any skills you would like to use while you are here?"

"Nay, M'Lord, but I will do whatever needs doing to show my gratitude for a new home. I can work hard, although I know I do not look like I can." A smile ghosted across his lips and disappeared.

"Do not think of such yet. First take some time to rest and refresh your spirit. Then it will be soon enough to find you something to do." Elrond's voice was kind but his eyes kept drifting off to the stacks of work on his desk.

The elf who stood before him saw the glances and murmured, "If someone will show me where I may stay, I will not take up more of your time, M'lord."

Relieved, Elrond rang the small silver bell on his desk. The door opened and the elf lord turned Valendil over to one of his messengers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There were no quarters in the Last Homely House that were not pleasant and more than adequate, especially by the standards of communities outside the hidden valley. But buildings being what they are, some rooms were preferred over others. Late at night, in one of the rooms that most considered less desirable, a single lamp with a blue flame flickered. At the small desk a figure hunched, lips moving as a quill rasped hesitatingly across a sheet of parchment. In a house full of beautiful hands that moved with grace, the one pushing the quill was marred. Slightly swollen joints and fingers not quite straight spoke of horrendous damage long ago—since the Firstborn heal well and quickly from most injuries. The fingers gripped the quill awkwardly and the hand was tired. Tired but driven.

He was mine, my only light,  
The only star in forever night.  
You—polluted, unworthy—The only ones less than I in so august a company,  
Stole him from me.

Stole him from me.  
Stole him from me.  
Stole him from me.  
Stole him from me.  
Stole him from me.  
Stole him from me.

The single line was repeated until it covered two pages.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_The fist connected with the side of his head, fracturing the newly healed cheekbone again. Why always the same place? Some day he might stop healing and then what would become of him? The young elf scuttled from the tent on all fours and heard the roar as his tormenter watched his prey escape. He had saved himself more pain now, but would pay dearly later. He must hide._

In his study, Erestor irritably set aside yet another parchment that could not be completed without additional statistics from the Chief Agrarian. Where was Valendil with the reports—he had been sent to fetch them an hour ago. In the doorway, a white-haired elf stood waiting, a sheaf of papers in his hands. A soft cough went unheard and had to be repeated twice before Erestor finally looked up and waved him in impatiently.

"Oh, there you are, Valendil. I did not see you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_"Sing, boy! You heard me, SING!" _

_The voice he raised was sweet and true in pitch. Song was the last joy he had in life, now that THEY had come. He was tired, though, and wretchedly thirsty, tormented by the water that stood in a ewer upon the table. His dry throat caused his song to hitch and break its gentle flow. This time the hand did not make a fist until it had closed tightly around his throat. The hand squeezed the apple until it ruptured. "If you cannot sing properly, you will not sing at all!"_

_It would be a year before he could speak…or scream._

"Glorfindel, another galliard! Sing us another!"

"Nay, no more! I am parched and must try the new vintage. Ask someone else! Elrohir, or – " He looked around and spied an elf on the edge of the group clustered around him. He had to pause to recall the name. "Or…er…Valendil, here. I have never heard you sing, my friend. Will you indulge us?"

The white-haired elf backed slowly away toward the comforting shadows that hugged the walls of the Hall of Fire, saying huskily, "I do not sing, M'lord."

"What, never? Nonsense! All elves sing! You will find us an attentive audience." Glorfindel smiled warmly and coaxed, "Come, please sing for us."

The slightly grating voice was all that remained for its owner could no longer be seen. "I do not sing, M'lord."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End Prologue

Next Chapter: "Erestor First"


	2. Erestor First

Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

Warning: Child abuse. Torture. (later chapters)

Characters: Everyone in Imladris but no Legolas

_Italics: flashbacks _

/thoughts/

Aragorn is nearly 16; follows the "Buried" series chronologically but there are only two brief references to the series.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Erestor First**

Elrond strode into the assembly room several minutes late as was his want when council members or visitors with council business needed to be reminded just who was Lord of Imladris. Three or four brisk strides into the room his nose caught up with his body. Elbereth's Stars! What was that stench! The Imladrians were looking surreptitiously around, trying to locate the source of the odor. The visitors pretended to notice nothing while at the same time they gleefully stored away the incident to savor later when gossiping.

Elrond looked for his chief advisor—the obvious one to handle the situation. In fact, it was odd that Erestor had not already gracefully suggested moving to another room while gently chivying the council out of the currently uninhabitable one. Looking around, Elrond could not see Erestor anywhere. He set a junior council member to the task of moving everyone while he looked for the hideous object, whatever it was, that was shortly going to be buried in the deepest pit in Moria if he had anything to say about it.

As the elf lord followed his nose toward the tapestries that hung from ceiling to floor, he realized he had smelled the odor before. He was trying to pin down the memory when he pulled back a tapestry depicting the creation of the sun and moon. Behind it, lying in a huddled heap was his First Councilor, apparently drunk. The reek came from the dark-haired elf. Now Elrond matched the odor to long ago battlefields and their attendant healing encampments. Apparently Erestor had not only drunk some vile raw spirit but had bathed in it as well. Elrond carefully lifted the lolling head and felt for the pulse – it was weak and erratic. The council session forgotten, he shouted for help and his cry brought an elf from the hallway.

"Quickly! Summon a stretcher from the healers and elves to bear it. RUN!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Glorfindel walked into the house for nooning and into an atmosphere as tense as any he had felt outside of wartime. /Ah, another restful day in the Last Homely House/ And to think he had worried that Imladris would be dull after his previous homes and experiences. He saw Elladan and Elrohir speaking in lowered voices halfway up the graceful, curving stairway that led to the family quarters. The twins were nearly identical and, with their heads inclined closely together, looked like one elf and his mirror image. Long sable hair in warrior braids flowed over rust colored tunics. Glorfindel ran up three stairs at a time and put a hand on the shoulder of each twin. "What have you done now?"

Elrohir started at the touch of the ancient one's hand but did not remonstrate with him. His eyes were dark with worry as he said, "Erestor is very ill. Ada found him in the council room this morning and he was _drunk_."

"Do not be absurd. Erestor never has more than a glass or two of wine. Ever."

Elladan nodded. "We know. _Everyone_ knows that. Nonetheless, he is lying in the healing wing with so much spirit in him that Ada says he may not survive it."

Glorfindel stared at him. He said slowly, "It takes a great deal of liquor to incapacitate an elf. It is hardly possible to do in any ordinary way. Even you two have never managed to get more than two sheets to the wind." He ignored the rolled eyes and turned abruptly to start back down the stairs. Over his shoulder he said, "I have some things to attend to."

Glorfindel did not head for a sickroom he would be denied entrance to anyway, but instead went to the council room. He looked around carefully, found nothing, and extended his search to Erestor's quarters. What he found there surprised him, although he had been certain he would find _something_ that would explain Erestor's intoxication. Grimly he pulled several objects from behind a clothes chest, gathered them loosely together, and started for the healing wing.

He met Elrond coming from a room that was reserved for very serious cases. It was true then; Erestor was in some danger. Elrond began to say that Erestor could have no visitors, but Glorfindel cut him off. "You need to see this. Where can we be private?"

Elrond knew that tone and without comment turned and walked past a few doors in the hallway and then stopped and opened another. "In here. What do you want to show me?"

"How is he?"

"Quite ill. I have been purging him but he had already absorbed most of it. We will know more in a few hours."

In a very controlled voice the seneschal asked, "Will we lose him?"

"I think not, although, as I say, the next few hours will be crucial." Elrond looked with sympathy at Erestor's closest friend. "Such obstinate spirits do not yield easily to the call of Namo."

Glorfindel gave a short, angry bark of laughter, "Aye! Who would have thought we would be grateful for his stubbornness?"

"I must return to him; what do you want to show me?"

Glorfindel walked to a stripped bed that had neatly folded sheets at its foot and laid out two glass bottles, a funnel, a piece of river reed with a dark red stain at one end, and some short lengths of rope. The bottles had once been stoppered with cork and wax, though they were now empty.

"Smell." Glrofindel held out one of the bottles.

Elrond wafted his hand over the opening and took a small sniff. He coughed and his eyes stung.

Glorfindel held up two of the lengths of rope. "Look."

Elrond at once noted the rusty stains. He snatched up the reed and smelled both ends. His brows snapped together as he understood the meaning of the diverse objects that had been found together. "This explains the marks on his wrists. He was bound and someone forced raw spirit down him through the reed. This stuff is very strong; even a hard-headed man cannot drink more than a few swallows at a time. Elendil's healers used it to render men insensible for surgery."

"Was it here or was it brought here?"

"We have some, certainly. Not a great amount; a few bottles. I have not used it much myself, but, as you know, I keep at least a little of all the medicaments of men and elves here. One never knows when a new use for something will crop up."

Elrond paced about the small room, hands behind his back. "I knew, of course, as soon as I examined him, that Erestor had not merely gone carousing. But, Glorfindel, who would do such a thing?" An unwelcome thought struck him. "…Elladan and Elrohir?"

The old warrior shook his head. "They would never endanger him. And for all they tease him about being stuffy, they would never humiliate him so. Erestor loves them in his contrary way and they know it well. And to answer your next question: Estel did not do it either. Whoever it was _hurt_ Erestor. The ropes chafed him and the reed tore his throat. I know I call Estel a limb of Sauron, but there is no possibility that he would harm Erestor. His pranks have sometimes gone awry and caused someone pain, but never was that his intention."

Elrond crossed the room and laid his hand on Glorfindel's arm for a moment. "Thank you, mellon-nin, I know what you say is true but I had to at least think of the possibility. After all, the three of them have done some outrageous things! But you are right. They would never deliberately harm anyone. Which puts us in a difficult situation. Because there is no one who could get close enough to him that is not a member of this household. We are not dealing with Orcs or Easterlings; we have a rat in our cellar, Glorfindel."

"Aye. A clever rat who does not mind using his teeth."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By that evening it was known that Erestor would survive. He was absolutely miserable and likely to remain so for some time. Estel had been worried about the advisor so Elrond let him help with the rather disagreeable chores that needed doing as the councilor's body tried to rid itself of the poison. The boy should know what he was getting himself into if he wanted to follow the Healer's Path.

Estel set aside the basin and covered it with a linen cloth. He took another cloth, wrung it out in cool water, and gently cleansed the councilor's mouth. Erestor could not speak for his throat was badly damaged and the retching was making it worse. Estel placed a soft honey-laced numbing lozenge against Erestor's lips and he parted them. Estel smiled warmly and pushed the lozenge within and against the councilor's tongue. "That will help your throat a little, Erestor, though only time will give you any real ease." The councilor reached a trembling hand to clasp one of the boy's. He mouthed, "Thank you" and Estel dared to press a quick kiss on the back of the hand before replacing it gently on the bedclothes. Then he placed another cool, folded cloth on Erestor's pounding head before he quietly set about straightening the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

While Estel watched over Erestor, Elrond held a meeting with Glorfindel and the twins.

"I have put it about that Erestor ate some bad meat. It is ridiculous but the best story I can come up with to account for his collapse and being in the healing wing. I do not want every elfling and imbecile laughing over this. For now, I want to keep the investigation between the four of us. Elrohir, I want you to research every elf in Imladris and see if there is some connection—some ill feeling from the past. It will not take too long as most that knew Erestor before he came here have sailed or perished. Glorfindel, you and Elladan will undertake the physical investigation. I will get whatever information I can from Erestor as soon as he is strong enough to write."

Glorfindel agreed but added a caveat, "He must not be left alone. It is not clear whether he was only to be humiliated before the council, or if killing was intended. If the latter, he may still be in danger. I am not entirely happy with Estel being there alone with him."

Elladan sprang up and left the room, tossing back at his elders, "I will go there now and will stay until you organize some guards."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End Chapter 1

Next Chapter: "Glorfindel Second"


	3. Glorfindel Second

Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

Warning: Child abuse. Torture. (later chapters)

Characters: Everybody in the Happy Valley but no Legolas

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Glorfindel Second

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

On a lovely morning one week after Erestor's attack, Estel came careering around a corner in the Last Homely House. He was hurrying because he had promised to play a game of chess with Erestor and had forgotten the time. Though to be sure, forgetfulness was only part of the reason for the speed since it was often said of him that he had only two gaits: a dawdling amble or a frenzied gallop.

The elf that carried a towering stack of bed linens was doomed from the moment he entered the corridor. He, Estel, and the linens went tumbling across the floor. Estel was appalled at what he had done and, while still struggling to get to his feet himself, tried to pull the hapless elf up with him. Thus they began a dance of rising and falling, slipping and staggering. Eventually the elf was on his feet, white hair wildly disordered, and looking at Estel as if he were a wolf about to consume him. Estel offered apologies and explanations as he darted about gathering the linens into tangled armloads.

"I am so sorry! Here, let me…I was hurrying…the sheets are…Valar! They take up more space all unfolded…are you hurt? I am _so_ _very_ sorry!" In spite of his original fear of this crazed human, the elf smiled shyly as he took from Estel an armload of twisted linens.

"I am not harmed, though the sheets may never be the same."

"Where were you taking them?" Estel asked as he turned to go with the elf, his own arms loaded with what _had_ been crisp linen sheets.

"To the healing rooms. But I do not think…they have been on the floor and they are very…"

"I have an idea."

"What is that?"

"Find a wardrobe, stuff them in, and pretend we have never seen a sheet in our entire lives!"

The elf gasped, scandalized, but then his mouth twitched. The twitch became a snicker.

"It would serve you right if I just covered you with them and walked away!"

Estel nodded vigorously. "Yes, it would! You ought to do it! Then I can stuff them somewhere and you will not know anything about it!"

The elf laughed outright. "Who are you, some evil spirit sent to plague this house? No, wait…" He sobered. "You are the foster son of Lord Elrond." He dropped his sheets and bowed deeply as Estel gaped at him. "Forgive me; I should not have been so familiar…."

"Do you think my father will be angry with you? Why? He is like to be angry with me—very angry—you are the third person I have knocked down this week." Estel laughed ruefully.

"You do not fear his anger?"

"Elbereth, yes! He can go on for hours; he is terrible to behold!"

The elf peered closely at the young man's face. "You are not frightened of him—I would know by your eyes. Why do you pretend to be?"

"I am frightened of him! Anyone would be when he is in a rage!"

Surprisingly, the elf became angry. "You are not! You have never feared him a day of your life! You could not speak so if you were truly afraid! You love him!"

The last was said accusingly and Estel began to be uncomfortable. There was an odd light in the elf's eyes. Mistaking the cause of the elf's distress, Estel said soothingly, "Do not worry; I _will_ be punished, I promise you. Severely!"

At that the elf gasped fearfully and put out a hand as if to touch Estel's arm. As though to comfort him. Even more uncomfortable, Estel stepped back and picked up the sheets again. "Shall we go? I need to visit my tutor who is not well, so I will help you and then be on my way."

They took the sheets back to the laundry where Estel explained what he had done and was roundly scolded. He meekly accepted his due and then turned to bid a polite farewell to the elf he had collided with. As he left the cavernous laundries the elf stared after him, completely at a loss for what to make of him.

Estel walked slowly toward Erestor's room, searching his memory for the elf's name and history. The elf was often in the family wing, padding silently along with his face turned a little away from anyone he met. Estel thought it odd that he did not know the elf's name. The elf had not been upset until they spoke of his Adar. Estel thought of the odd gleam he had seen in the pale blue eyes and felt a prickle along his spine.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That evening…

After a day on the training grounds, an unusually tired Glorfindel walked slowly into his office in the armory. He had not rested well since Erestor had been assaulted because his mind would not stop circling around and around, trying to pry some bit of truth from endless conjecture. The investigation was not going well. Erestor remembered nothing that occurred between having his late tea and waking in the healing wing. The objects found in his room were common household items except for the bottles of spirit and even those had not been locked away. A fifteen minute walk would procure the reed. The situation was frustrating in the extreme.

Glorfindel crossed the room and quite uncharacteristically thumped clumsily into his chair. His elves were all dismissed to baths, meals, and beds, but he, knowing he would not be able to rest, had decided he might as well complete the next rotation's roster. Glorfindel's adjutant, Taurnil, was somewhat worried about his commander and sent someone who was hanging about the kitchen to take Glorfindel some refreshment.

Two hours later Taurnil returned to see if his commander had eaten anything or could be convinced to retire. He carried a stack of scrolls which flew in every direction at the sight that met his eyes. He shouted desperately for help as he slid to his knees beside Glorfindel's unmoving, bloody form. His shaking hands hovered over his lord, unsure what to do as he gave a keening wail of grief and rage.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the healing wing hall, Lord Elrond ducked a flying vase and in a long-practiced move, came up under his son's guard and grasped him by the shoulders. He shook him roughly. "Stop it! Stop it at once! He will recover. Elladan! I promise you he will be all right!"

Elladan's furious eyes stared unseeing and he struggled for a few more moments before his father's words finally penetrated. He drew short, gasping breaths as his eyes focused on his father. Glorfindel's blood, acquired while helping to transport him, covered Elladan's hands and tunic. His father still grasped his shoulders, but now more gently, offering support and understanding.

Elrond continued more moderately, "I know exactly how you feel, ion nin. But rampaging around like a wounded oliphaunt will not help him. I need you to go and speak with Taurnil; see what he knows, what he saw. I cannot do this myself for I will be working all night. But Elladan, have a care! Take Elrohir with you; none of us can be alone until we discover what is happening. And go easy with your brother—you know he feels it as much as you but will not let it show."

"Ada…his face! Are you sure…? Who could do that to his face?"

"I will not know how well he will be…restored…until I have finished. In any event he will not leave us; his life is not threatened. And no doubt in time the scars will fade. He heals amazingly fast since his rebirth. As to who?" The elf lord's voice hardened. "Someone who hates. Who will shortly learn that hatred can be returned!"

Elladan grasped his father's shoulders in turn. He smiled a little, even in the horrid circumstances. "Now who needs to calm down? You go and do for him what you can, while Elrohir and I try to get something useful from Taurnil. He will need some soothing, too; he has served Glorfindel for many years. Then we will wake Estel and tell him before he hears about it some other way. He will be distraught and will make my rampaging look tame!"

Elrond smiled as he turned toward his operating room. "That is well thought, my son. But do not forget to cleanse yourself before you go to Estel or he will be rampaging indeed. I will see you when I have finished." He drew a deep breath as he walked into the room and as he crossed the threshold he was no longer the lifelong friend of the elf that lay on the table being prepared for surgery by the healers. His mind locked such feelings away and the body before him became a puzzle to be solved, a work of art to be recreated. For he could not look on this horror and think "Glorfindel" without losing the cool nerves needed to save his friend from pity and averted eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was late. Most elves were retiring to enjoy reverie in their rooms or walking out to stroll the gardens that were washed with moonlight. The elf writing in the windowless room was very tired. He had put in a long day with many exhausting activities. His hands shook. But he had to write a little in his journal; just a little, then he could rest. He was not so driven tonight that he must cover page after page. In fact, he was enjoying the closest thing he ever felt to peace of mind. His entry was brief and satisfying.

Fear and dread shall rule your hearts.

Who next? shall rule your thought.

Never regarded, never known;

You gaze on nemesis and see naught.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The foremost healer of Middle-earth took several breaks during the long night, drinking strengthening tea and pacing up and down the hall while swinging aching arms and stretching cramped fingers. Then he would return to his battlefield, armed with Power and skill. He did the finest suturing he had ever done or ever would do, reassembling the face of his golden seneschal.

Dawn had broken when he opened the door for the last time that night. He leaned exhaustedly on the door frame, looking nearly every one of his many years. His robe, which he normally changed before leaving the surgery, was sodden with blood. Elrohir, Estel, and Elladan were sitting on the floor and sprang to their feet. Their questions died on their lips as they gently grasped their father's arms and led him to his quarters. They cared for him as he had for them when they were small: filling the bath, taking his defiled clothing, and tenderly pushing him into his tub. Their father leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His sons waited silently, in terrible suspense. After a long while, he began to speak.

"He will do well, I think. Although not strictly necessary I have bandaged him completely, to protect his dignity. There is no reason for anyone but the four of us and my assistants to know how extensively he was damaged. By the end of the week most of the swelling and discoloration will be gone. The scars will take longer, but eventually I believe he will be our beautiful Glorfindel again. Fortunately whoever it was used a sharp dagger. The cuts were clean-edged and fit together well. Most importantly, the eyes were only superficially injured—his eyesight is not in jeopardy." He straightened in his bath and with shaking fingers began to undo the single plait that had confined his hair.

Elrohir sat on the marble ledge of the bath. "Let me, Ada." He began to work loose the braid, gently untangling the long, dark strands that were nearly identical to his own.

Estel was white-faced and silent. He had not seen what had been done to Glorfindel but Elladan's carefully abridged description had been sufficient to leave the boy frightened and furious. Elladan put his arm around Estel's shoulders and the boy leaned against him, although he shed no tears. Elladan asked his father, "Shall I tell you what we learned from Taurnil?"

Elrond turned his tired mind to the pressing issue of what the hell was happening in his house. "What did he say?"

"He said there was a strong man-smell there." Elladan glanced apologetically at Estel. "He thinks men did it."

Elrond narrowed his eyes. "What do you think of that idea?"

Elladan shrugged, "It is preposterous and Taurnil knows it. He does not want to face what we believe: it was an elf that did this, and an elf from Imladris."

Elrohir added, "There are often men here and everyone knows how things go missing when one travels! The assailant had only to collect something from two or three guests and keep them hidden until he was ready to…to –" he stopped and darted to a washbasin, heaving. Elrond sighed. One twin threw things and shouted, but the other contained anger and fear tightly until his body rebelled.

Elladan went to Elrohir and gathered his hair back, smoothing it in his hands. "He will be our beautiful Glorfindel again, little brother. Do not think of what was done. Think only of how we will catch him, whoever he may be." Elrohir, still leaning over the basin, tipped his head to meet his brother's eyes shakily and nodded.

Elrond had left his bath and put on his robe. He crossed the room to comfort Elrohir and on the way gathered Estel with an arm around him. "I will make us all some tea. None of our stomachs are particularly steady at the moment."

When all four were settled before his fire, cups in hand, Elrond had further questions. "Who was the last to see him before the attack?"

"That elf that runs your messages sometimes. The quiet one who never meets your eyes."

"Valendil?"

"Yes. He took a tray to Glorfindel at Taurnil's request."

"We need to speak with him. Elrohir, will you question him tomorrow and bring me a report?"

Before Elrohir could answer, Estel had cut in. "I do not like him! He is everywhere, moving silently about…"

Elrond reproved him gently, "He is everywhere because we have found no true place for him and so he runs errands, helps in the kitchen, works in the laundry, and whatever else he can find to do. I must say he is very uncomplaining about doing the least agreeable chores."

Estel frowned darkly. Someone around the Last Homely House needed to keep an eye on that elf and it looked like it would have to be him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day Elrond and his sons held a council of war. Erestor, still unable to speak, had chosen to guard Glorfindel. He sat by his old friend's bed with a huge sword that made Glorfindel roll his eyes. The marshal's bruised and swollen eyelids were islands of black, green, and yellow in a sea of white bandages.

Elrohir reported on his interview. He said disgustedly, "He saw, heard, and smelled nothing. He is absolutely terrified and I would be very surprised if you could get him to leave the house now! His main concern seems to be that it was only chance that spared him and took Glorfindel. He was quaking like a leaf."

Elrond had an arrested expression in his eyes but it quickly faded. "I am getting desperate! For just a moment I thought…But it is absurd. Whoever attacked Glorfindel must be cunning and have nerves of steel, for anyone might have interrupted him. It is impossible to picture our culprit as a little wisp of an elf like Valendil."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End Chapter 2

Next week: "Then Elladan"


	4. Then Elladan

Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

Warning: Child abuse. Torture (later chapters).

Characters: Everybody in the Happy Valley but no Legolas

_Italics: flashbacks_

**Then Elladan**

Two weeks after Glorfindel's attack, two nearly identical elves led their horses from the stable in the misty pre-dawn darkness. They had a task to perform and were pleased to escape the oppressive atmosphere in the house and from endless questions that seemed to have no answers. Glorfindel was healing quickly and well, and Erestor had been able to speak, if hoarsely, the day before so their hearts were lighter than they had been for long days.

An intermittent low-lying fog hugged the valley but if one looked straight up, Ithil and the stars were clearly visible. The wispy fog appeared luminescent in their light. It was a beautiful sight and the elven hearts sang with joy. The ordinary chore of riding with messages to the border outposts became a delight as the two riders cantered into and out of gossamer cloudlings. Moisture gathered on dark eyelashes and weighed down the hair that hung down their backs. After they had ridden a few miles, one hesitant ray of the rising Arnor touched the far side of the valley.

Gradually, as often happens with brothers, one speeded up a little, and then the other speeded up a tiny bit more. Soon the tuppity-tuppity of a slow canter turned to the kalunkit-kalunkit of a hand gallop. And shortly after that there was heard the chaotic drumming of two horses running in earnest. The morning was too heart-breakingly beautiful, though, for serious competition and when Elladan had pulled only a half-length ahead, he raised his arms up, over his head and to the sides, stretching his fingers as though trying to catch the first rays of sunlight. He threw his head back and his faer nearly burst from his body in ecstasy. Like a centaur from old tales he and his horse flew along and behind him Elrohir's heart swelled with love for his brother and his valley. The joy could not be contained and the younger twin's throat opened in song as Elladan disappeared into yet another patch of mist. Elrohir closed his eyes, the better to feel the tiny droplets and was struck from his horse by the hurtling body of his brother.

Elrohir slammed into the ground on his back, the impact so great that he lost consciousness momentarily. When he opened his eyes seconds later, Elladan lay atop him, groaning. Elrohir feverishly worked himself from under his brother, trying to move him no more than he could help.

"'Dan! 'Dan! Are you all right!" Seeing no arrows or other obvious wounds, Elrohir quickly and expertly worked his way along the long limbs, gently felt the skull, and tested the ribs. He heaved a sigh of relief at finding no breaks. Elladan opened his eyes and Elrohir held him down with one hand placed on his chest. He spoke quietly and compellingly, "'Dan, move your fingers. Good. Now your feet. Very good! How many fingers do you see?"

"Two….You always hold up two."

Elrohir sat back weakly on his heels, resting his hands on his knees and hanging his head while he caught his breath. It was several moments before he could demand, "Elladan, _what_ _happened_?"

"One second I was well; the next some giant hit me in the chest and I flew backwards! Thank you for cushioning my fall, brother dear."

Elrohir was still too worried to reply in kind. He saw Elladan's hand move up to his neck and looked closer at his tunic. A long, narrow stain was spreading side to side. Elrohir gently unfastened the tunic and saw more blood on the shirt beneath. He ripped it so that he could see the skin below.

"'Ro! I just had that made!"

"Be still…What the—what on Arda is _that_?"

"What? What is _what_?"

"'Dan, you have a gash running right across your collarbone from one side to the other…" His voice trailed off as he thought of ways to create such a wound. Then the blood drained from his face. 'Dan, you were corded! If you had not been stretched up like that it would have taken you in the throat!" Then another incredible aspect of the event occurred to him. "You were corded not five miles from the house!" Looking around nervously, he whistled for their horses. "Can you ride?" The wound bled but sluggishly and Elrohir thought it best they move on at once. Both horses came back to their riders, snorting and sidling at the strange happenings.

Elladan began to slowly get to his feet. "I think so. What about you?"

Elrohir was not interested in small talk. He moved quickly to his brother's horse. "Give me your foot," he ordered, bending and lacing his fingers together. Elladan stepped onto the cradle of his brother's hands and Elrohir tossed him up. Elrohir limped to his own horse and mounted, scrambling up without grace. They rode soberly and very carefully home, eyes peering every which way through the dissolving fog.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night five elves met in the stone vault of the wine cellar; they did not want to be overheard. Elladan leaned against the wall and kept overly-concerned elders and brothers at bay with crossed arms. His wound was thin and shallow and really did not need the disinfectant his father had dabbed him with. Elrohir paced, muttering darkly, and Elrond tried to keep the meeting orderly and on track. He was concerned that Glorfindel was present and had removed his bandages. The warrior's face looked like a patchwork quilt; one made by a careful and expert seamstress. When Elrond began to remonstrate with him he made an impatient gesture.

"I know you tried to shield me from the curious but since they will gossip anyway I might as well give them something to talk about. No, Elrond, enough! I am well! I am your seneschal; I will fulfill my charge. So far we have been very fortunate, but any of these events could easily have killed. We must assume the next one _will_ kill. I went to the place where Elladan was brought down and found this." From under his tunic he pulled a coil of treated flax thread. He tossed it to Elrond who caught it deftly out of the air one-handed. The dark-haired lord looked at Glorfindel.

"Bowstrings?"

"Not yet, but that is what it was intended for. Although it has been waxed to a greater thickness and hardness than can be used with any bow I know of. It was lying by the tree that the villain used to stretch the cord across the path. There is a groove in the bark at exactly the height I would expect. I believe he was there. He did not tie to the other tree but wrapped the cord around it and held it in his hand. He knew the twins would be traveling that way and he wanted to _see_ his plan work. He wanted to _see_ the rider brought down. It was easy enough—all know they take the dispatches each week if they are home."

"Bring _me_ down, you mean," put in Elladan.

Erestor, sitting on an oaken barrel, spoke hoarsely, "Perhaps. But how many who do not sit at the high table can tell you apart? He wanted one of the sons of Elrond; I doubt it mattered which. I agree with Glorfindel that the striking thing about these assaults is that although each _could_ have killed, that outcome was hardly guaranteed as we have seen. That means –"

Glorfindel spun around as the door to the cellar hit the wall with a crash. It was a measure of the tenseness of the situation that his sword, rarely carried in the house, sang as it was jerked from its scabbard. The intruder found himself looking at the deadliest blade in Imladris. It did not faze him in the least and he brushed past the edge as he stormed down the long vaulted room to stand before his father.

Elrond found himself reminded of Elros as he calmly gazed at the jutting chin and the thunderous brow. "Yes, my son? Did you wish to speak with me?"

"I have wanted to speak with you these two hours past, Adar, but strangely I have been unable to find you! Why have I had to hunt my father like a fox in a hole? It seems I have interrupted a family meeting of some sort. One to which I was not invited!"

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other and their eyebrows climbed in identical arches; Elrond was not accustomed to being spoken to in that manner by his sons. But the lord of Imladris saw fear as well as anger in the grey eyes that met his and so he tempered his response.

"I am sorry I did not tell you that we intended to meet here. With all that has happened I can understand that you were upset when you could not find us. Nonetheless, you will lower your hackles when you speak to me, Estel!"

For just a moment the issue trembled in doubt on the disturbed air, then Estel dropped his chin a trifle and took an easing breath.

"I am sorry, Ada. But this is about us, is it not? My family. No one else has been threatened." He became belligerent again, "I have a right to be here!"

The elf lord's brows first soared then crashed together at the word 'right.' He opened his mouth to deliver a crushing retort as Estel roughly brushed his ever unruly hair from his eyes.

But before Elrond could speak, the torchlight flickered and played up the fine white lines on his son's hand. He had performed two operations on the boy after his harrowing experience months before. Over time, he had tried to reduce scarring and return full use and strength to damaged tendons. He had succeeded well at the latter and to some extent with the former, but some scars would always remain. They reminded him that his son had been tried by fire and not found wanting. He relaxed and came forward to put an arm around the rigid shoulders.

"You must have patience with me, Estel. It is hard for me to remember that you are no longer a child. Come, let us begin again. You are correct. We should have included you from the beginning. If only because you may be in danger as well."

"Then there _is_ someone who wants to harm us."

"Apparently, although it is hard to imagine one motive that would involve everyone attacked so far. But you are right, Estel, in that we must assume none of us is safe at the moment. I think we should ensure we go nowhere alone. We must also leave the house as little as possible. Elladan and Elrohir were not alone so that is obviously not sufficient in and of itself."

Elrond went carefully over every detail of each attack and the reports of all who had been interviewed. Added all together, there was still almost nothing to go on. Estel began to postulate Valendil as the assailant again, but the others turned on him in exasperation.

Estel broke through their expostulations. "Ada, listen to me! I have been following him –" Elrond's eyebrows went up again. "- and he looks at you in a very strange way!"

"No doubt wondering why I do not curb my son's poor manners! Estel! Following him?"

"But Ada – "

"Enough. I want the three of you to sleep in the same room from now on. Erestor and Glorfindel, you should share as well."

Estel was momentarily sidetracked. "What about you, Ada? I think my brothers and I should stay with you so you will be safe."

"All of you in my rooms? Amazingly, I do not agree! Although, I do think it might be best if _you_ stayed in my rooms, Estel. That way Valendil might get a good night's sleep. He certainly looks like he could use one. Oh, and Estel? Do not _ever_ brush by a blade like that again. Luckily for you, Glorfindel has lightning reflexes."

The resultant discussion of reflexes, who had them, whose were fastest, and the proper way to storm angrily past an armed elf took another half an hour.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_He watched from across the clearing as the two whelps that had been brought to camp only a month ago were gathered into _his_ arms. The one who had protected him; had kept the heavy hand at bay much of the time. The one who brought food and bandages, who railed at his brother and demanded a little care for a youth who had already learned that the world was hard and cruel and held no peace. The hand that had gentled his hurts now caressed _their_ hair. He was already well acquainted with hate. Now he simply added two names to the list of those he would kill if he should ever have the power._

The figure sitting at his desk moaned and rocked rhythmically. Elladan had escaped with barely a scratch. The need—the burning need—that had been appeased a little by the near death of Erestor and the mutilation of Glorfindel, now would admit of no more delay. He had originally planned to harm everyone close to _him_ but it was taking too long. There had been enough preliminaries; it was time. The quill moved quickly and the writing was illegible. But he knew what was written there and he murmured over and over again the charm that gradually soothed him enough that he was able to take a little rest.

You will moan and you will scream,  
And kneeling, mercy beg.  
Sweet music calls me back to life,  
My soul revived through vengeance fed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End Chapter 4 of 9


	5. Elrond

Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

WARNING: Child abuse. Torture.

Characters: Everybody in the Happy Valley but no Legolas

Estel is sixteen.

_Italics: flashbacks _

/thoughts/

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrond

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He became aware of cold first. He could not see or hear but he felt cold air playing abut his body. Then the strain in his shoulders made itself felt; his wrists were held high above his head although his feet rested on a floor. He shifted his feet a little and heard the soft gritty sound of boot soles on dirty stone. So he _could_ hear and probably see—there was simply nothing much for those senses to work with. Elrond flexed his wrists and the pain in them, which had been simply waiting for him to become aware enough to feel it, made him gasp a little. Chains. But fine—very fine and cutting. They appeared to be wrapped around his wrists many times and when he twisted his body slowly around, there was but an inch or two of slack. Still, it was enough for him to realize he was not against a wall or other barrier but in an open space. As his mind continued to clear he realized he was blind-folded with some soft dense material. He drew a deep, calming breath.

/Elrond, you are far too old for this sort of nonsense. You no doubt have some delightful days ahead of you before you are found and rescued, but you _shall_ be, so calm yourself. You have been through this kind of thing before; one endures and makes up one's mind not to die. Now then, what can you discern about this situation? Item 1: you have been unconscious for at least an hour, probably more. This place does not smell like anywhere in the House, so probably much more. Item 2: you are naked from the waist up and let us not dwell on why that would be preferential from your captor's point of view. Item 3: someone is coming so endeavor not to disgrace yourself/

Soft footfalls came toward him and stopped quite close by. Elrond smelled pitch and smoke; whoever it was carried a torch. A soft whisper began and by the echoes of the sibilance Elrond knew the space that contained him was small, probably no larger than his own study.

"I have waited long for this day, half-elven. I only hope my enthusiasm will not cause me to inadvertently terminate our time together too quickly."

Elrond said nothing. His captor's words made it obvious he had not been stolen away and positioned as he was for a little extra negotiation over a treaty. The way these situations normally went, there was no point in a having a conversation. The whisper gave him no clue to his attacker's identity which was the only information Elrond desperately wanted. The smell of pitch retreated somewhat as whomever it was placed the torch in a bracket on the wall.

The light footfalls gritted on the stone as they returned to within a few feet of the manacled elf lord. Accompanying the footsteps was a dragging sound that also chimed softly, like fine mail when it is lifted from some surface. Then all sound ceased until his captor drew a sudden deep breath, as one does before physical effort.

A sharp whistle was followed by a searing stripe of pain that curled around Elrond's shoulders, his chest, and partway round his waist. /Elbereth! What _was_ that/ He need not have worried about disgracing himself through crying out, for his breath was completely stolen away. Nerves seemed stripped bare and exposed to the air. The pain was fiercely blazing, like nothing he had experienced before.

His assailant waited, knowing Elrond would need to recover before receiving another blow. Too close together and one lost much of the effect. He drew back his hand that held about three feet of a spear shaft to which was attached a long length of fine chain; heavier than jewelry weight but finer than that used for the most costly mail. Each link was the size of a garden pea.

Elrond's paralyzed diaphragm relaxed a little and he drew a gasping breath The whistle sounded again and again stinging fire wrapped itself around him as a lover's arms would curl and caress, save that the only lover that could cause such torment would be a Balrog. Elrond had been flogged on a few memorable occasions but at those times the lash had struck and dropped away. This—whatever the hell it was—curled and clung, having to be drawn forcibly from his body, dealing further pain.

Again the wait for Elrond to draw breath—the sign that he was ready for more.

For the next hour the fire was methodically placed. First shoulders and back, then waist and thighs, then arms and face. Never twice the same. Each time the wait. Sometimes for twenty breaths, occasionally for fifty, or even two hundred, so that the Elrond might have hope that the torment was over. Though his skin was only lightly marked with small beads of blood, his leggings were shredded by the cutting links. Only Elrond's boots could resist their insistent intrusion.

After 20 strokes Elrond began to groan, swearing internally at himself for weakness. The assailant paused and approached so closely Elrond could feel his breath on his cheek. One finger drew itself across the fine welts on the sweating chest and try as he might Elrond could not control a shiver of revulsion. For the second time the whisper spoke. "Do you think you bleed, half-elven? Nay, there is naught but a drop or two. You will not escape from me through death, my dear old friend. We can play this game for days, and so we may. I will tend you, feed you, and let you rest. I too, will need food and rest, for sadly I have never had as much endurance as most elves." He walked all the way around Elrond, enjoying the sight of the network of fiery red lines that crossed and recrossed the body of the ruler of Imladris. He drew a cold finger across more of the welts, feeling the sharply ridged flesh and the heat that radiated from the outraged skin.

"You have company here, although it is not time for you to meet—just yet. I will give you an opportunity to save your companion. I intend the same treatment for him, but will wait to begin on him until you scream, half-elven. I will play fair; I will not count moans nor groans, yips nor yelps. But when you scream…" In its delight the voice approached a normal volume and Elrond listened intently, trying to match it to a known elf. Until, that is, the next words ripped all coherence from his mind. "- when you scream I shall bring the human child to join us and I do not think it will take long for him to scream. Not long at all; children have so little fortitude. But you do not know that so well as I…THIEF!" The sudden shriek startled Elrond but could not deflect the elf lord's mind from the terrifying words concerning his son.

So intense was his fear at his captor's words that he forgot to brace himself for the next stroke. This time the white-hot river curled around his waist twice and Elrond fought for control. He was often criticized for coldness but that was the only thing that would help his son, unless a war party was breaking down the door at that very moment. Possible, but not to be counted upon. He feverishly put together the tidbits he had gained. His tormentor was an elf since as closely as he had approached he would have smelled a man. He spoke as Glorfindel did with that archaic flavor that Elrond had deliberately shed. So he was an elf and very old. They apparently knew each other though Elrond was highly doubtful that they had been friends. The small amount of normal vocal timbre he had heard was tantalizingly familiar. He was so focused on his thoughts that a vicious back-handed blow took him unaware, rocking his head back sharply and splitting his lip.

"You are not paying attention! If you turn your mind from our activities I will be forced to get that animal in here the sooner!"

Elrond spoke for the first time, blood warm and thick on his tongue, "Do not harm my son. The consequences to you do not bear thinking of."

"Yes, yes, 'you will pay' and 'do what you will with me' and so on. We will take all that as read. Are you ready to continue?"

The whistle sounded again and Elrond tensed. The stakes were now a little higher than an elf lord's pride. As his skin once again bloomed with electrifying pain he ground his teeth together. He did not pray for death or anything so melodramatic; a dead father could not save his son.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the library of Imladris, Glorfindel, perhaps because he had flavored his tea with a generous tot of liqueur, was the first to regain consciousness. As it had for Elrond, the effects of the drug left him quickly and without much disorientation. Adrenaline cleared the rest of it from his system as he moved about the room, checking pulses and shaking shoulders. Elrohir was the last to return to awareness and like the rest made a quick, devastating count of those remaining.

"Ada and Estel! Where are they!"

Elladan crossed the room and kneeled beside his brother's chair. He took Elrohir's hand and laced their fingers together. "They are gone, Elrohir. He has gotten what he must have wanted all along." Elrohir began to swear, creatively and blackly, but Erestor hushed him.

"We must remain calm if we are to help them." He had walked to the balcony to check the position of the stars. "We have been unconscious for roughly three hours. They are still within our borders but could have been taken as far as twenty miles if he had horses and help. Far less if he is working alone."

Glorfindel looked more closely at the balcony than Erestor had. "It seems to me they must have gone this way. Whoever it was could hardly drag Elrond by the feet through the house or walk out with him over his shoulder, however late it may be." He snatched at a few long dark hairs that fluttered from the balustrade, caught in a tiny imperfection in the wood. "He probably just heaved them over—it is not far to the ground here."

Before he had finished speaking Elladan and Elrohir had swung over and down and begun looking for signs. They found them at once. Elladan shouted up to the two advisors. "He had a cart! One of the kind the gardeners use that have the large wheels. But why? We can track them easily!"

Erestor looked at Glorfindel and said grimly, "It will not be _that_ easy. He is either the luckiest elf alive or we have been incredibly stupid."

Glorfindel's eyes suddenly narrowed. "I am afraid it is the latter! Erestor, who brought our tea?"

"That white-haired shadow…I cannot recall...oh yes, his name is Valendil."

"Who brought you your tray before you were assaulted? Who brought mine?"

"Elbereth!" Erestor's keen intelligence leaped ahead. "We have completely underestimated him. He has brought our late tea many times without incident. He runs errands for Elrond and myself a hundred times a day; he has made himself so omnipresent he seems almost invisible. He has acted coolly and carefully and you are right, finding them will not be easy. But why? Why would he harm those who have taken him in, whom he has never met before?"

"I begin to fear for Elrond exceedingly—he must have a madman's reason for all he has done."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Estel heard the whistle and screamed since his father did not, though a gag muffled his cries. Before his captor had gone to attend to Elrond, he had carefully explained to Estel the activities that would be going on in the next room. He had demonstrated the lash of chain so that the boy would know the sound when he heard it. Estel struggled and thrashed but he was well bound. The bindings were soft cloth so that he would feel little pain until his captor desired that he should. He was sitting against a stone wall with his hands secured behind him to an iron ring, while his feet were bare and bound tightly together, as were his knees. He snorted in disgust at the elaborate precautions taken against his escape. He had been right; their assailant was Valendil. The frail looking elf was determined that he would not be put in any position where he would have to struggle with one of his victims.

The whistle came again and Estel's entire body shuddered. He had overheard dark tales, told when he was thought a-bed, of men and elves forced to witness the torture of those they loved. He had felt sympathy then, but now he fully understood their anguish. He thought that he could truly not bear his father's torment. He imagined the proud elf's eyes tightly screwed shut against the fiery pain. Valendil had given him one relatively gentle stroke as a demonstration and even through his shirt Estel had felt the fire the chain dealt. As stroke after stroke fell upon his Adar he thought that he would shatter into little pieces, or that he would go mad and be found gibbering and foaming. But of course, neither of those things happened and he simply heard again and again the whistle the chain made before it struck. Estel's throat ached from his screams but he welcomed the pain as if it could ease his father's. It seemed to him obscene that he should be comfortable while his father suffered.

Finally, the sound stopped, though that brought no ease to Estel's mind.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrond's head hung limply and his weight now depended fully from his wrists. The last few strokes had wrung deep, grinding groans from him but he had not screamed. Valendil stepped forward and took a fistful of the elf lord's hair and dragged his face up so that he could watch Elrond's expression closely. "I am tired, half-elven. I will rest now. But first, would you like some water? I am sure you are not inclined to believe me but I will give you a drink if you ask for it."

Elrond yielded for his son's sake. His voice rasped, "I would like some water."

Valendil waited. He did not move about impatiently, or nudge, or prompt. He simply waited. Until, as he had known he would, Elrond gave him his desire.

"Please…please, I beg for water."

Valendil smiled and left the room, returning after some minutes with a crude metal cup. He held it to Elrond's lips and the elf lord drank quickly, afraid the cup would be snatched away. Valendil let him drain it completely. Under the blindfold, Elrond's eyes opened wide. He ran his tongue around his lips. His heart racing, he sought to show no sign of excitement and murmured, "Thank you."

"I told you I would care for you—for a time. As I said, I am tired. I am going to lower the chains enough that you can lie on the floor. Since you are a mighty warrior and a clever leader, you may think to escape. But _I_ think you need no chains at all, for I will sleep in a loving embrace with your son. If I hear one sound from this room I will slide a dagger through his ribs and into his heart. One sound, half-elven. Have you heard me? Do you believe I mean what I say?"

Elrond said with truth, "I do believe you. I will do nothing that will endanger my son."

He heard clanking and the sound of a ratchet clicking even as the pull on his arms suddenly lessened. He slumped down on the floor when he had been given enough slack in the chains. He heard the soft footfalls leave him and a door thudded shut, followed by the sound of a heavy bar being placed across it. He listened long for a tell-tale breath. Nothing. He was alone. His arms quivered and twitched uncontrollably when he tried to raise them. After what seemed like hours the strained muscles again began to obey and with fierce concentration he slowly and carefully brought his hands to his face. His hands were numb and his fingers bent uselessly when he set them against the blindfold. He persevered, and eventually managed to hook his thumbs beneath the edge and slowly inch the soft folds up his face. When the blindfold at last moved toward the crown of his head he wrenched it off and sent it sailing to a corner of the room in a furious gesture of rebellion. That forceful movement made the contraption over his head swing and clang and Elrond froze, his heart banging hard against his ribs. He must be very careful; the elf was mad and might well kill Estel even as he had threatened. He looked around but saw little as the torch was burnt out and the room had no windows. It did not matter; he now knew where he was.

Estel looked up as the white-haired elf entered his cell, for a cell it was, whatever its original purpose. The elf laughed softly at the death that looked at him from the silver eyes. "So, little man, were you armed I would be dead now, would I not?" He came close to Estel and squatted beside him. "I know well that look, pen neth, but do not wear out your soul with looking, for I looked so at _him_…yet he lived. And gave my body to pain." He stood again and said briskly, "I would like to feed you and then obtain a little rest. If I remove the gag will you keep silent?"

Estel nodded. Valendil cut the gag with his dagger, showing care for the cheeks of his charge. He left and returned with a cup of water as he had done for Elrond. Estel drank swiftly and watched Valendil narrowly. He moved his swollen tongue about in the cold water in his mouth and worked his stiff lips to loosen them. When the elf stood again and had gone a few paces away he drew a deep, deep breath and shouted, "ADA! I AM HERE AND I AM WELL!"

Valendil spun around but exacted no painful retribution. "He already knows you are here and now he knows that you are alive. That will cool his ardor for escape better than anything I could possibly do." He left again but quickly returned with food. He fed the boy clumsily on bits of bread and cheese and Estel ate every crumb that was offered. He heard Glorfindel's lecturing voice in his mind. /The more desperate the situation the more you must take advantage of any little thing in your favor. That often means bending your neck and yielding when you would rather spit in someone's face./

Then Valendil sat down on the floor next to Estel and snuggled up next to him. He worked an arm behind the boy and, true to his word to Elrond, embraced the edan about the waist and pulled him close. Estel stiffened and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. The last year or so he and Elrond had had a few discussions on a new topic that had made both of them very uncomfortable. Estel was now terrified that his father had left out some important information. He started shaking but Valendil patted his arm and said seriously, "His tastes did not run in that direction, so you are safe from me in that regard. I will do nothing to you that was not done to me." He paused then added very softly, "I was the age you seem to be now, though I do not know the years of men. Be grateful you are mortal for your nightmares will have an end." The hand that gently patted now moved to grasp the dagger and incredibly, Valendil slept, holding Estel tightly with one hand and his dagger with the other. Estel nearly lost his meager supper as his skin crawled at being in such close contact with his father's torturer. The macabre situation took on yet another dimension as the elf, snoring gently, rubbed his cheek against Estel's shoulder like a little elfling.

Estel assembled and reassembled all the words Valendil had spoken. He began to glimpse a horrible picture, one undreamt of by a boy who had slept soundly and safely in Imladris, surrounded by love and kindness. In spite of his rage and fear he felt a tiny tug of sympathy for an elf so warped and scarred by life that he sought comfort from the son of his enemy. But _why_ was Elrond his enemy? For Estel knew that there was no possible way his father, however stern he might be at times or cold with those not invited into his heart, could be the 'he' that had hurt Valendil. So why? There was no possibility that he would sleep while in Valendil's hold, so he pondered on through the night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End Chapter 4


	6. Pain

Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

WARNING: Child abuse. Torture.

_Italics: flashbacks_

/thoughts/

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 5 Pain

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrond had nearly broken down when he heard the voice of his son; the boy was well enough to give a ringing shout and relief shook the elf's control. After a time he mastered himself and began, as Estel had, to piece together the information his captor had given him. He was sure now that the elf was Valendil for as the time wore on he had allowed his voice to rise from the whisper with which he had greeted Elrond. The prison was not some dark, dank dungeon, though dark and dank it was. They were in an abandoned spring house, used in times past when Imladris had been home to many more elves than currently. It was basically a square stone building with one large room and three or four small, lockable rooms opening from it. In the large room there were four channels cut in the floor and running from one side to the other. The building had been built next to a spring and the cold water was run through the channels and exited on the other side. The thick stone floors and walls held the cold and milk, butter, eggs, and other perishables were kept there in days gone by. Elrond had known at once when given the water, for the spring had a distinctive metallic taste. The abandoned spring house was only a few miles from the main house, though the path to it was long overgrown as was the springhouse itself. Valendil had not idled away his free time if he had found this place that was forgotten by everyone. Now how to use this information to get Estel away and safe? He forced himself to rest through calming exercises but sleep was as far from him as it was for his son. The hours wore on.

Suddenly Elrond heard cries from the next room, too muffled and confusing for him to know who made them. He began to try to free his hands, letting the chains rattle for as long as he heard the noise he used as cover for his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I cannot believe we have lost them again!" Elrohir's voice shook with anger and fear.

Glorfindel nodded grimly, "He had the sense to take them the way the troops return from the first night patrol and the tracks are obliterated. Since we have lost them for now, we will go to Erestor."

"Erestor? Where did he go?"

"He has been searching the archives. He will have found the most likely places to take them. No one knows more about Imladris than he. Hopefully he has finished by now."

Collecting Elladan on the way, Glorfindel and Elrohir hurried to Erestor's private study. Glorfindel knocked and a voice called, "Come!" The twins stopped short just inside the doorway and stared in amazement. Erestor stood behind his desk, hands flat on the top on either side of a parchment. Around his desk, nearly as high as its surface, were drifts of paper. The normally tidy room was awash in overturned furniture, piles of books, and parchment tubes.

The First Counselor looked up and said curtly, "Good, I was about to go and find you. I have narrowed the possibilities to three considering the distance he could possibly have taken them." He bent to the side of the desk, snatched at the parchment that came first to his hand, and ripped it roughly across. The twins goggled at this flagrant disregard of his every guiding principle. They were also astounded at his aspect and manner. The smooth councilor, both in appearance and word, had been transformed. He stood in black leggings and snug fitting tunic which was also a dull black. His hair, which the twins had never seen other than loose or with a single clasp to keep it from falling into his face, was braided in a single plait down his back and so tightly pulled back that his eyes had an exotic look. He wore very soft black boots and enough armament for two elves. His eyes had a predatory gleam and his words were clipped and brief. Unlike Elladan and Elrohir, Glorfindel was not flummoxed by what he saw but rather, encouraged. He had seen this sight before and knew that Erestor's unique skills would be employed to find their lord.

Erestor drawled, "I suggest you close your mouths." Elladan and Elrohir snapped their jaws shut.

Erestor started drawing quickly and crudely on the first piece of parchment. "One possibility is the old watch tower a half-mile south of the cliff path. It has subterranean storage and has not been used since the new tower was completed. It is quite a distance, the farthest of the three, and there is, of course, foot and horse traffic that passes quite close. However, prisoners could be kept there if they were unconscious or gagged. Elladan, you will search this candidate."

Elladan took the parchment and nodded. Erestor cautioned, "Do not take any action unless their deaths are imminent." Elladan swallowed hard. "We will all meet in two hours by the bridge to report. You will have to travel fast to get there and back in time." He stared for a moment at the elder twin and then snapped, "Elladan, why do I still see you?" His former student wrenched his eyes from the transformed councilor and ran from the room.

"Elrohir, you are with me. We will take the spring house; I believe it is the most likely place. Glorfindel, search the bridge supports downriver at Three Hinds Crossing. There are small grates below water level that will let you into the hollow chambers there. It would take a desperate person to try to get prisoners through that way, but it is possible."

Glorfindel snatched the parchment thrust in his direction, nodded, and tossed over his shoulder as he left the room, "The bridge in two hours."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Estel cried out as the blade cut into his side. Valendil had been moaning and whimpering in his sleep and had begun moving restlessly. One of those movements pushed the dagger into Estel just a little. Valendil lunged away at Estel's noise and for a few moments chaos reigned as Valendil threatened Estel for trying to hurt him or escape and Estel tried to shout him down and tell him that it was Valendil who had instigated the ruckus. The elf finally noticed the small spreading stain on Estel's shirt and calmed down. Surprisingly, he apologized.

"I am sorry, boy. I have…bad dreams."

Estel watched his face carefully. "About what happened to you when you were young? I am sorry that you were hurt, Valendil."

The elf stared at him in amazement which turned to anger. "Do not!" he hissed. "Do not think to soften me! I have brought your father here to make him pay for what he did! And he will pay best when he watches you in torment!"

Now Estel was furious in turn. "My father never laid a hand on you or yours or caused anyone any hurt in his life! How dare you accuse him! I _am_ sorry you suffered but you have the wrong elf! By the Valar, you have the wrong elf!"

Valendil squatted next to Estel and spoke with a dangerous light in his eyes though his voice was controlled. "Nay, I have the right one indeed. Listen….We were all moving about, living in tents, for nearly every hand was against my lord and his brother. They were hated by many and could find no succor. Those who were loyal to them—to my lord and his brother—lived hard and hungry in those days. My lord's brother was embittered for everywhere he looked he saw treachery. He was never kind, but he grew worse as we lived rough, within a few leagues of where his desire rested, wrongfully kept from him. Many of his own, including my lord, tried to get him to renounce his oath and try to gain a little peace somewhere far away from that place. He was even more angered by this and his hand, always heavy and quick to deal punishment, became impossible to bear. I was an orphan in the company, of no family worthy enough to provide some protection through my name. But my lord, my dear lord, took me into his service as a page and I knew warmth and kindness. He stayed his brother's hand or cared for me when he had been away from the camp and there were none to stand between his brother and me." Suddenly Valendil reared upright, pointing with a shaking hand at the wall that stood between him and Elrond, sobbing in rage.

"And Elrond and Elros stole him from me! Maglor hardly looked to me once _they_ came! His brother was even worse after losing the cursed stone yet again, but I had lost my protector. Nay, not LOST. He was stolen! Stolen! He was MINE! The only one who ever…who ever…" Valendil collapsed in a heap, crying piteously.

Estel stared, appalled at the tale he had been told. He had never been struck in anger in his life. He tried to imagine his father (whose anger he had always thought very terrible and awe inspiring) striking him and knocking him to the floor. He, too, had been an orphan but there had never been a day he had not been cared for and nurtured. He had known grief and hardship, but never alone, never hungry, never frightened because those who were in charge of him were a danger to his body and spirit. Estel had also become even more frightened than when he had first awoken here. For now that he knew what drove this tragic elf he understood just how much danger his father was in.

After a long while, Valendil got to his feet. He was now very calm. "I have rested long enough. I know that Elrond's sons are trying hard to find you. It is only a matter of time before they succeed. I had best see to breaking the peredhil." He left the room without another word.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrohir and Erestor took to the trees to approach the springhouse. The ground cover was too dense for an approach both quick and quiet, with brambles and trees filling in the old road that had led there, as well as the area surrounding the spring. Erestor kept an eye out for traces that Valendil had carried his captives this way but was not disappointed when he found none; there were a thousand different paths to take through the trees. Elrohir questioned his conclusion. "Erestor, how could Valendil have carried them; he is not strong enough!"

"Keep your voice down! He is not as strong as most, no, but how strong does he have to be to carry Estel or your father? He is still an elf, after all, pathetic though he may be." They continued on until Erestor suddenly disappeared before Elrohir's eyes as he simply dropped straight down through the tree and landed catlike on the ground. The younger elf's amazement concerning his one-time tutor continued to grow. Erestor had some explaining to do when all were safe in the Last Homely House again! He joined the other elf by a more cautious route and Erestor gripped his arm tightly. He placed his mouth against Elrohir's ear and spoke in a very low and quiet tone. He did not whisper as the sibilance would carry too far.

"We are about a quarter mile away. Follow me and make no sound. No sound, Elrohir! Snap no twig; breathe through your nose. Place your feet as I do. When I stop again we must use hand signals. I want you to listen at the door. Listen only; take no action. I will scout around the perimeter and come back to you. Elrohir – " He paused, unsure how much to say. Although he did not know the specific motive that caused Valendil to steal away the lord of Imladris, it was obvious that more was wanted than two lives. Death could have been dealt a hundred times over; Valendil had had easy access to Elrond and his son. And he, Elladan, and Glorfindel had personal experience with the directions this elf's imagination could take. If he said nothing, Elrohir could ruin all in his fear and rage. He placed an arm around the younger elf's shoulders to try to soften what must be said. "You must wait for me by the door and make no sound, regardless of what you hear. Regardless of what you hear. Do you understand me?"

Elrohir was secretly the favorite of the austere councilor. Erestor appreciated his keen and intuitive intelligence and sensitive nature. Elrohir demonstrated both when he began to tremble as his mind filled in the gaps in Erestor's careful statement. But the presence of the councilor steadied him and he turned his head and spoke in the same soft voice Erestor used. "I do understand. I will not do something foolish and risk greater harm."

Erestor squeezed Elrohir's shoulder and then moved away, as silently as a ghost. When the springhouse came in sight Erestor signed a halt. Then he stood and listened and watched. Elrohir first emulated him, then began to be impatient as the older elf stayed still as a statue for long, long minutes. When he was satisfied they would not be seen, he crept forward. Elrohir followed as well as he could though he seemed to be following a large, black snake that flowed over and around the obstacles in their path fluidly and silently. He had trained for many years as a warrior, but it apparently he did not yet know all there was to know about moving invisibly through enemy territory. Together they came to the stout double doors wide enough to allow a large cart or truck between them. Erestor pantomimed putting his head to the door and Elrohir nodded. The councilor then melted away like a shadow. The son of Elrond placed his ear firmly against the door and listened with every fiber of his being.

Erestor silently circled the building, stopping every twenty feet or so to listen intently, ear to the stone walls. As he had known—but it had to be confirmed—there were no windows and no other doors. He used a vine to climb to the roof but found treacherous broken slates that would crash noisily to the ground at the slightest pressure of hand or foot. At the side opposite the door he discovered the stone covered channels that carried the water to where it disappeared under the walls. The holes in the wall were too small for anything but a good-sized rat to use. He continued on around the building.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Valendil strode into Elrond's room and went to the wall. Turning the ratchet wheel vigorously he hauled the elf lord to his feet and again raised his hands high overhead. Valendil made no comment about the blood that ran slowly down the stretched arms as a result of Elrond's attempts to free his hands or the fact that the blindfold had been removed. He grasped the spear-shaft and spun the chain across the floor. It crackled and hissed as he worked it back and forth against the stone. Then he whirled completely around and struck at Elrond with far more force than he had used the day before.

The chain curled now with the speed of an arrow's flight. Twice around the elf lord's chest. Elrond grunted as he saw blinding flashes before his eyes. The pain which had seemed intense the day before now appeared as a gentle caress. When he was able he drew shuddering breaths. He sweated though he was cold. He prayed.

It took three more strokes, delivered the same way, to force a groan from between bitten lips. Two more and Elrond cried out short and sharp, not yet a scream. Valendil leaned against the wall, chest heaving from the exertion of delivering such vicious blows. If Elrond did not scream soon, he was not sure he would have the stamina to make him do so. Deliberately he raked over his memories, relived his own worst pain, remembered again how Maglor had held a laughing Elrond over his head before swinging him down to the ground. Valendil had hated Elros, too, but the brother had escaped into mortality before he could work his vengeance; Elrond had to pay for two.

His hatred refreshed and giving dark and frenzied life to his body, Valendil continued. Stroke after stroke until finally, finally, a scream from the elf lord. The spear shaft clattered to the floor and Valendil laughed through gasping breaths. "Because you are weak, your human fosterling will now complete your payment."

_He brings it on himself, brother! He is wicked and disobedient! If he would bear his punishment as an elf and not a cur he would not be dealt so much! His cries infuriated me; he has the remedy—he has only to keep his mouth shut and take what he has earned with decent self-control. Ah, leave be! You surely would not let this nothing come between us?_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the next room, Estel sobbed and struggled as his father was flogged again. When his father screamed Estel shrieked like a savage. Valendil entered to find the boy hunched and rocking. Estel raised his head and said through clenched teeth, "I will kill you! I swear it, I will kill you!"

The white-haired elf was elated at having forced a scream from Elrond and smiled at Estel. "I misdoubt at your age you have killed anything other than a rabbit or mayhap a deer. An elf is something else altogether, boy!"

White-faced and shaking with fury, Estel replied, "Yes, but still I will kill you. A fitting entry into manhood—to kill my father's torturer!"

Valendil paused in his advance across the cell, so fierce was the glare from the silver eyes. Then he shook himself; this was just a human child. "You will not be in any condition for such pursuits in a short time." He carried a cloth bag in his hand and squatted down yet again by Estel and quickly tugged the bag over his head. Estel fought like a wild thing but was too tightly bound to avoid the soft and smothering folds. Valendil sat back, hesitating, and then pulled the material tight around the boy's face. It was like holding on to a trapped badger as Estel fought to bite him through the cloth. After some minutes, though, Estel's struggles grew less and finally stopped completely. Quickly cutting the limp form free, Valendil carried him to the cell that held Elrond.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End Chapter 5

A/N Ok, I know some of you are angry about Maedros and Maglor but I needed _somebody_ to be the villains and for this plot it was either them or Cirdan, and I can't buy Cirdan as an abuser.


	7. Estel

Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

WARNING: Child abuse. Torture. Warning is now in force!

/thoughts/

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 7 Estel

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrond's eyes were fixed on the door and he stopped breathing when his son was carried through it. Estel hung limply over Valendil's shoulder, arms flopping and head lolling in its black velvet covering. Valendil paused before the elf lord to savor his fear.

"Do not concern yourself. Yet. He is merely a little short of air. If I hurry, perhaps he will recover." He carried Estel to the wall that Elrond faced and placed the boy's body against it with his back to his captor. Valendil leaned in to hold Estel's body upright with his own while he shackled his wrists with iron cuffs that were fastened there. Unlike Elrond, Estel's arms were held out to the side and flat against the stone wall. Valendil pulled the hood from Estel's head and, to make him more comfortable, turned his head so that his cheek lay against the stone. He stroked the tangled hair and then tapped the cheek lightly. "Wake up, pen neth."

Estel quickly returned to consciousness. He grasped at once his changed circumstances and tried desperately to see his father from the corner of his eye. "Ada – "

Elrond spoke quickly, afraid he would not be allowed to do what little he could for his son. "I am here, ion nin. Listen to me: I love you, Estel. Whatever happens, you know this. We will be rescued—Glorfindel and your brothers will find us." Then he turned his attention to their captor. "Valendil, please do not hurt my son. I beg you! I will kiss your feet. I will place my neck beneath your heel. I will give you anything I possess! _Please_…"

Valendil came to stand before him and smiled with satisfaction. "Ah, now you begin to pay in coin that matters. All the pain I dealt you could not touch you so much as one stroke placed upon this human. Now I will have my vengeance upon you—through him."

Elrond began to plead again but Estel broke in. "Ada, he was hurt by – Maedhros? when he was my age. He thinks you took Maglor from him, who was his protector. Ada, he…he was hurt very badly, for a long time." While Elrond's mind grappled with this incredible information, trying to remember the youth Valendil had been, Estel spoke to the white-haired elf "I am sorry, so sorry for what happened to you. If you had not hurt my father I would have tried to help you—befriend you." /But now I will kill you./

"I believe you would, boy. You are even more of a fool than I was. You see, half-elven, how tender are the young? So, too, was I when you stole my lord from me."

"Elros and I had only just lost our mother and all who lived in Sirion! My brother and I were too shocked and frightened to notice the pain of others! I am sorry for that; three children in such a place should have been friends and helped each other. But Valendil, how can you do to another child what was done to you! Please, let me continue to pay for your pain with _my_ body. I am the one to blame, not Estel! I will devise you new torments to use upon me, please…_please_, Valendil!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrohir leaned against the door, his arms wrapped tightly around himself in grief and rage. He kept his ear against the door as he had been bid; it was all he could do to help for now. His fingers bit so deeply into his sides that he bled unknowing. With the insulating stone and wood between them he could not tell: was that his brother, his father, or both, who cried out so piteously?

So lost was Elrohir in the nightmare beyond his pointed ear that he jumped a foot when Erestor put a hand on his shoulder. He snatched at Erestor's plait and pulled him forcibly down to hear for himself what was happening inside the springhouse. The elder elf stilled and then looked at Elrohir with understanding eyes. Erestor grasped the twin by the arm and pulled him away, signaling for him to follow silently as before. When he judged they had gone far enough Erestor began to run like a deer and Elrohir stumbled after him, his mind caught in the hideous vision his imagination had conjured up.

They ran unheeding of noise or the tearing claws of branches and brambles. When they came to the meeting place at the bridge, Erestor slid smoothly to a halt but Elrohir was caught up by Elladan as he staggered into the open.

A soggy Glorfindel met Erestor's eyes and grinned. "I knew you would find them! At the springhouse?"

"Yes, but we must hurry. They are being tormented by that lunatic."

Glorfindel swore but was too experienced to waste time on emotion that could be put to better use. "Taurnil stands ready, though he does not know why. Shall I summon him and his company?"

"No. The four of us will be best. He is surely mad; we must take him unaware. If he sees or hears us he will kill them, or at the least we must assume that he will."

"Then lead on. Elladan, is your brother fit to go?"

Elladan looked at Glorfindel over the head of his twin that rested on his shoulder and nodded, but Elrohir straightened up, eyes streaming, and answered fiercely for himself "There is no force that could keep me from being a part of their rescue. Let us go!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When the blade first touched him, Estel could not help jerking in reaction, try as he might. Valendil reached out his other hand and smoothed soothing strokes on the boy's back. "Shhhhh, not yet, not yet. I will tell you before I hurt you. Now you must be still or I _will_ hurt you, through your own thrashing about." He put the tip of the dagger against the sleeve of Estel's shirt at his wrist and slowly drew it through the material all the way to the neckline. The material parted smoothly before the keen edge and fell away from Estel's arm. Valendil cut away the other sleeve and then drew the dagger in a long sweep down the back and the shirt fell to the floor. Estel now stood in leggings and boots just as his father did.

Valendil next picked up his spear shaft and a smith's hammer that he had placed by the wall. He began beating the links of the chain on the floor. He struck again and again at a distance of four feet from the shaft attachment. He beat until he had severed the chain in two. He then carried it, gently swinging, to show to Elrond. "He is fastened too close to the wall to get the best effect of the full length. This shortened piece will serve much better."

Elrond was hoarse from begging but whispered one last time, "Please, I implore you, do not do this." He received no response. When Valendil turned to Estel, twirling the spear shaft so that the chain rattled and sang, Elrond spoke again to his son.

"They will come, ion nin. Your task is simple; you endure until they do. You can do this, Estel. You must hold on; they _will_ come. Cry out—it will help a little. Do not try to remain silent thinking it will make me proud."

Valendil smirked. "How…maudlin. How do feel about this half-elven now, boy? The mighty elf lord, famed in song and story, begs like a dog that fawns on the master who beats it. He would cut off his own sword arm if I commanded it!"

Estel replied proudly and defiantly, "Yes, he would. To save me, he would. You think him weak? If I were Morgoth himself I would quake before the power of his love. You may beat us both to death but you cannot stop him loving me. He gives me freely what Maglor –"

Elrond gasped, "Estel! NO!"

"- did _not_ give you, or he would never have left you to his brother's tender mercies!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Glorfindel gave his instructions to his small company. "Erestor, you and Elrohir will force the door. It cannot be locked from the inside so he may have barricaded it. Try to move it one hair's breadth at a time. Erestor will go within as soon as there is enough of an opening. Elladan, find a tree that gives you a clear shot at the doorway and keep an arrow nocked." Elladan nodded tensely. "You will aim to kill so have a care who you are shooting at. Do not wait for my signal. If you get a shot at him, take it. I will be at the door with Elrohir."

"You will not go in first?" Elladan had complete faith in Glorfindel's skills, but he had never known Erestor as a warrior. The black-haired elf standing next to Glorfindel grinned wolfishly at him and dark knowledge shone in his eyes. Elladan shuddered and was silent.

The party moved the short distance to the springhouse and took up their positions. Erestor put his ear against the door and listened intently. He motioned to Elrohir who knelt and placed both hands flat on the door about two feet above the ground. The younger elf pressed carefully, so carefully on the door and at first nothing happened. Then he felt a quiver in the wood and the door moved ever so slightly. Erestor cut the movement with another gesture and listened again for a long time. He motioned Elrohir to continue. To Elladan, standing braced with his string hand pulled half-way to his ear and keeping his eyes firmly fixed at what would be chest height, it seemed no one was doing anything at all. The tiny movement of the door was too slight even for elven eyes to see. His right arm began to quiver with strain so he switched his hold and again the bowstring drew back.

There was now a two-inch gap between the door and its jam and Erestor pushed his long fingers within to feel for obstructions. It seemed there was nothing piled before the door but he did not motion for more speed from Elrohir—old doors often protested being opened with grating shrieks. At long last a gap of six or seven inches gave them a look into the room. There was a faint glimmer of torchlight; the torch must be in another room, not the large one with the water channels. Erestor moved silently to Glorfindel who stood with sword and dagger in hand, and made signals before his eyes. The golden elf nodded and Erestor pulled a tiny jar from inside his tunic. He opened it and gave the lid into Elrohir's keeping. He dipped his fingers into the paste within and began to blacken his face. Elrohir took the jar and finished the face and neck for him while Erestor covered his hands. When he was finished and he closed his eyes, he seemed to disappear. He removed his knives and sword and their scabbards, keeping only a boot dagger. He then began to sidle through the doorway, inching carefully, pulling his chest and stomach against his spine. The twins watched in amazement as the staid counselor slid eel-like into the largest room in the springhouse. Elrohir made as if to follow but Glorfindel's iron hand caught his arm. He signed for the younger elf to take up a position opposite him and to draw his sword. They would wait until Erestor signaled them to join him.

Once inside the room Erestor listened again, holding his breath. He heard a continuous gurgle of water but nothing more. Then he began to creep, crouching, around the perimeter of the room, one hand on the wall, the other holding his dagger. He moved swiftly, smoothly, and absolutely silently, like a spider. Now that he was further within the springhouse he could hear voices, though fortunately just speaking at the moment. He came to the first water channel and reached down to feel its depth. It was about 18 inches wide and 18 deep. Water flowed still, even after all this time. He stepped across and encountered one more before he came to the far wall. He turned and moved along it, finding an empty room at once, its door hanging off one hinge. He passed it by and came next to the room in which Estel had been kept. There was a torch on the wall and Erestor glanced within, seeing the shackles, cut cloth bindings, and other signs of habitation.

There was only one room left and the voices became louder as Erestor crept even more carefully along. He waited, crouched into a very small, dull black shadow against the wall. He listened to see who was in the room and was rewarded by hearing both Elrond and Estel. It sounded as though Elrond had been having a rough time but that he could speak at all caused relief to wash over his chief councilor. Estel sounded much stronger and that was not to be discounted. The boy had quick wits and was already a fighter to be reckoned with, though as yet he had only sparred while training.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Estel's words rang in the small cell, Valendil swayed and lost what little color he had ever had in his cheeks. A minute later, though, color blazed as he shook with rage. He forgot his promise to warn Estel and struck hard. As his father's had before him, Estel's eyes flew open and he was unable to breathe. Blazing fire across his back showed him instantly that even his recent experiences bringing a wounded Legolas to Imladris had not taught him all there was to know about pain.

Elrond had closed his eyes when Valendil's arm drew back. He called himself ten kinds of coward but he simply could not watch the chain strike his child. But closed eyes could not lock out the sound the chain made as it struck the tender skin and inexperienced body of his son again and again. At first Estel made no sound save a ragged breath when he was able to snatch one. In spite of his father's words he did not want to appear weak before Elrond. But he was too untried in such horrors to remain silent long and soon whimpers and then full-throated cries were torn from him. The rhythm of his cries would seem odd to those familiar with the ways of torment. For when the chain struck, there was no sound but the chain itself, since without breath there can be no voice. But between strokes the boy sobbed and begged someone, anyone, to stop his agony. Although he hated himself for it, the one he begged most was his father. Elrond made no sound himself, though tears poured down his cheeks as he felt as if his heart was torn, beating, from his chest.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Erestor heard the chain strike Estel and kept a tight rein on his emotions. The fact was, the boy would survive even a severe flogging and that was the priority right now: survival for both Elrond and his son. There was no point in waiting longer here; he knew what he needed to know, so he lifted a little from his crouch and began to make his way back to the others. He heard more blows connect and Estel crying out and perhaps he was not quite as controlled as he believed he was, for his foot struck a piece of metal—a chisel left from when the building was kept in repair. It rang against the stone wall and Erestor froze, looking quickly about. There was not so much as an old broken urn to hide behind.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Valendil froze as a faint sound came to his ear. He listened but all he heard was Estel's ragged breathing and moans. His nerves were beginning to betray him and he had to make sure all was safe. He darted to the doorway and peered out in the large room. He came back and grabbed a torch and went out through the door. Even elf eyes had trouble seeing in the cave-like blackness of the springhouse and he walked about with the flickering torch held high. He went into the other small rooms and a little way into the main room. He saw nothing but pooled water and stone and at last turned and went back to his amusements.

In the main room of the springhouse, Erestor saw spots dancing before his eyes. He could wait no longer. He slowly turned his head sideways and lifted it a little out of the water. He breathed deeply for a few minutes, then, having seen the torch was gone, began to rise out of the channel he had been lying in. His shoulders left skin behind for he was very tightly wedged in the narrow space. He moved slowly so as not to cause a splash and stood still, letting the water drain from his hair and clothes before climbing from what had been too closely shaped like a coffin for his comfort. He then began to make his way to Glorfindel and the twins.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Valendil left the room to search out the reason for the noise, Elrond tried to comfort his son. With great effort he maintained the quiet, steady tone that had meant safety and security to the boy since his earliest years.

"Estel, I know how much you are hurting but you will survive this, even though it does not seem possible. Think as hard as you can about something wonderful. Do you remember when you and Legolas trained Sadoreth? Tell me again how you felt when you rode him for the first time."

The boy answered in a whisper, feeling years younger than the almost-warrior he was. "Ada…Ada, it hurts! I am on _fire_, how can I bear it!"

"Shhh, I know. I know, my heart. Tell me of you and Sadoreth. Do it now!" The stern command brought automatic obedience. Falteringly the boy recounted a story told a hundred times.

"Legolas helped me to climb up as gently as I could. Then he led him around and Sadoreth walked so stiffly. He did not know how to carry me."

In spite of the pain the familiar details of a wondrous day began to focus his mind. His skin continued to blaze with sharp fizzing jolts but it faded just a little into the background.

"Yes! Go on! Think of the sounds and smells, how warm the sun was and how blue Legolas' eyes when he laughed. Make it as real as you can."

"It was a most beautiful day; it was warm enough that I took off my tunic. And Legolas' eyes get darker when he laughs. He can be so merry. Sadoreth's nose was like the softest velvet and his coat like silk. I – Ada, he comes!" Estel broke off fearfully as Valendil came back into the room.

Elrond ignored the elf that he would like to rend limb from limb, healer or no. "You have your memory, Estel. Use it to build a wall between yourself and the worst of the pain." He paused, watching Valendil. He _would_ stop the elf from hurting his son again. Perhaps he could goad the elf into turning to him. He thought for a moment and then spoke.

"I have not lied. They _will_ come for us. They must be close now. Your only hope for mercy is to stop harming my son."

"Your son! He is not your son! Why do you care for him at all? He is Engwar! Although you are yourself polluted so it is perhaps not so surprising."

Elrond smiled. He saw his path. "That is true, Valendil. I am half-elven, as you have said. You must have wondered why _he_ should care for us."

"YES! You are not even Moriquendi! How could he look on you without disgust! Why did he turn from me; I am Calaquendi!"

"And yet he did. He held us tightly and sang to us when we could not sleep. He whispered soothingly and kept his brother far from us." Elrond swallowed as Valendil whimpered; he was not looking forward to the consequences of his words. "He loved us, Valendil. He loved _me_. He never mentioned you, ever. But he whispered to me, 'Do not fear, little one." Elrond created dangerous words in as close an imitation as long dimmed memory would allow. "You are safe, my Elrond. I will keep you from harm. Do not weep; I will keep you safe…safe from my _brother_."

Valendil wailed and snatched at the spear shaft on the floor. He began to beat Elrond furiously, not pausing to increase Elrond's pain or his own enjoyment. He screamed in a high-pitched voice, making meaningless sounds.

Outside the door, Glofindel and Erestor knew the moment had come and burst into the room, Erestor hurling his dagger as he threw himself sideways close to the ground. Glorfindel leapt through in the other direction and in one stride had placed his body and blade between Estel and further harm. Erestor's poniard sank deep into Valendil's back a few inches below the right shoulder and the elf spun around, eyes wide with astonishment. He stood absolutely still, then abruptly sank to his knees. When they made sudden, jarring contact with the floor, Valendil screamed from the vibration of the blade. He struggled to stay upright but by degrees sank to lie prone on the floor. Scarlet bubbled at one side of his mouth as his lung began to fill.

When Glorfindel saw that Valendil was still and likely to remain so, he began to work his knife in the latchings of the cuffs around the boy's wrists. Erestor went to his lord but the elf groaned, "See to Estel!"

Erestor obeyed and caught the shaking body as Glorfindel freed one arm. The golden warrior quickly broke the catch on the other cuff and Estel fell back into Erestor's hold. Elrond breathed a heartfelt prayer of gratitude as his son was laid on the floor. Glorfindel questioned Estel while placing a hand on the boy's throat to feel the rhythm and strength of his pulse, "Are you all right, pen neth? Have you other injuries than these welts?"

Estel, nearly swooning with relief, pain, and the end of fear whispered, "Get Ada down! Please, I am fine, help Ada!"

Erestor and Glorfindel turned to release Elrond, which was a far more complicated matter. As they eased the tension on the stretched arms, Elrond saw Estel crawl slowly to Valendil and feel his pulse. Mistaking the boy's motivation, Elrond asked, "Does he yet live?"

Estel looked up and said quietly, "Yes." /But not for long/

At that moment Elrond's attention was diverted as his marshal began to unwind the bindings on his wrists. Erestor supported his lord from behind and heard and felt the hissing breath as the mauled wrists were exposed. Their attention thus focused the three did not see Estel slowly pull the white-haired elf's belt dagger.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End chapter 7 of 9

Engwar: "the sickly", mankind

Moriqundi: Dark elves (their kindred never returned to Valinor at the time of the Great Journey)

Caliquendi: Elves of the Light (light of the Two Trees) they _did_ return to Valinor (though of course some left again and then…well, just go read the Sil if you haven't already. :-)


	8. Healings

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Healings

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Only coincidence caused Glorfindel to look up when Estel placed the dagger's point against Valendil's throat. He called out desperately, "Estel, no!"

Elrond jerked his head around at the cry and his blood froze. His son—his healer son, for the boy had the gift—knelt with a dagger to his tormentor's neck. A hundred thoughts flashed through Elrond's mind, the main one being that his son must not kill; not like this, not now. The day would come, and soon, when he would take lives other than the ones all hunters take to feed their people. But he was not yet fully prepared for battle, let alone taking the life of a helpless elf whose spirit was so badly maimed.

Elrond spoke urgently, "Estel, stop. You must not!" The boy looked at his father but though he heard his words, what he saw was a mighty elf lord, nearly infallible in his eyes, half lying in Erestor's hold. He saw the myriad red and purple welts that left almost no skin its normal ivory color. He heard again the whistle and felt the shudder through his own body as a blow landed on his father. Now he had an even greater appreciation of his father's sufferings since he had had a taste himself. He slowly pressed and the dagger's point pierced the skin and a thread of blood ran down to drip to the floor.

Elrond forced himself from Erestor's comforting hold and crawled on all fours to Estel's side. The boy looked at him pleadingly but the knife slid a bit deeper into Valendil's throat. Elrond slowly reached out and clasped Estel's wrist. The arm jerked in his hold and the trickle became a small stream.

Elrond knew he could pull his son's hand away, but that was not what he wanted. He said softly, "No, my son. This is not you. This elf who you have good reason to hate is no true enemy, not now that he is powerless and in our hands. You cannot take his life so dishonorably; you do not have it in you to kill someone so defenseless. That is not my Estel. That is not my dear son." His voice was compelling and slowly Estel raised his head and met his eyes. Elrond uncurled his fingers from Estel's wrist by infinitesimal degrees and sat back a little. He held his breath. Estel's hand shook and the knife sank a little deeper. Then the boy looked back to the elf on the floor beside him; a small pathetic excuse for an elf. He looked at his father who had loved him for as long as he could remember. He raised his gaze higher to see Glorfindel's eyes also begging him to stop, while Erestor gazed at him with sorrowful eyes that held the kind of knowledge that Estel was on the verge of gaining for himself.

Estel reached out his other hand and drew his fingertips across some of the welts on his father's chest. Elrond spoke persuasively, "I will heal, Estel, as will you. And we will have, as we have had all through this ordeal, our love for each other. Do not take the life of one who has had so very little of warmth or joy. We will heal and laugh again, much sooner than you can imagine at this moment. He will never heal from the hurt that matters, even if I can heal his body, which is very much in doubt."

The boy turned his eyes to his shaking hand and the dagger it held. He slowly pulled it back and Elrond was now the one trembling in reaction. The dagger clattered on the stone and Estel slumped exhaustedly. Elrond called to Glorfindel, "Come and tend him. Erestor, I need you to help with Valendil. It is doubtful I can save him but I must try. I owe him that much for what I took from him, all unknowing."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Glorfindel settled the question of what to do with Estel by simply scooping him into his arms and carrying him from the springhouse. It would be best to get him completely away from Valendil and would give the twins something to do, for they were sure to be angry that they had missed all the excitement. He came to the still barely open door and shouted, "Do not shoot me unless you are willing to face the consequences or kill me outright!"

The twins laughed, one releasing his bowstring and the other sheathing his sword, and pushed the door wide open. Glorfindel always said outrageous things when the field was won and all was well. Or perhaps not _all_ was well as they took in the sight of their little brother. Elladan received him into his arms and the three retreated a way into the forest. Glorfindel watched a moment as the twins began to soothe a now sobbing Estel. They understood the strange ways a release from danger could affect one, especially one yet so young as their brother. The old warrior smiled at the touching scene but then turned abruptly back to the springhouse. Elrond notwithstanding, he would feel better if Valendil was securely housed in the Halls of Waiting. He could not help hoping Elrond's efforts would be unsuccessful.

Elladan had stashed a small pack of medical supplies close to the springhouse and began to gently cleanse the welts on his brother's back. Elrohir held him against his chest and gentled his head into his shoulder. The cleanser Elladan used stung, but the touch held much of love and Estel relaxed and took deep, shuddering breaths. The twins' eyes met and exchanged looks of fierce protectiveness. When a little time had gone by, Elrohir asked quietly, "Ada?" and regretted it as Estel stiffened and moaned. Elladan spoke quickly, "Glorfindel does not make jests unless all is well. Perhaps Ada is a little worn and tired, but he will be fine, Estel."

"No, you do not know, he beat him—beat him with a chain!"

Elladan said tightly, "Is that what made these? I wondered; I have not seen such raised yet narrow welts before. It does not matter, Estel. You will both be sore for days but you will heal –"

"You do not know! He barely touched me compared to Ada!"

"And Ada will heal faster than you, Estel. Remember?" He had Estel's attention now and teased him just a bit. "Another reason for you to complain about not being an elf!" Estel could not help smiling a little for it was true; his Adar would heal quickly. At that moment Glorfindel came jogging over and pulled Elladan away from his brothers.

"Is Estel well enough for you to leave him?"

"Yes, if he stays with Elrohir."

"Then your father asks you to run for aid. We need stretchers and bearers. Also some clothes for your father."

"For Ada? A stretcher for Ada?" Elladan's voice rose and Glorfindel hushed him while darting a glance at Estel.

"No, not Elrond. Valendil. He lives."

Elladan said dryly, "You must be slipping."

"I was not first in the room. But do not blame Erestor; he made a good throw in the circumstances. Elrond is bent on saving Valendil if he can, though what we are to do with him is more than I can fathom. Now go." Elladan nodded and turned away. Glorfindel went back, yet again, to the springhouse.

After another half an hour Elrohir asked his brother if he felt he could start for home. The elf was concerned as he had no cloak for the boy. He had given him his tunic, but tremors still shook Estel's body. Whether from shock or cold, it did not matter; he needed to be home. Elrohir helped Estel to his feet and kept an arm around him, though he tried to avoid the worst of the welts. Murmuring encouragement, he led Estel away through the trees to meet with those who would come with aid for them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrond slowly lifted his hands from Valendil's back. He was completely drained of energy and Power, but it was now possible Valendil would live. Erestor, knowing how thin was the fabric that separated the white-haired elf from the Halls, sternly resisted the urge to tear it and shove the elf through. He pulled Elrond back against him and supported his friend, offering water from Valendil's cup. Elrond was in far worse shape than his son. The final barrage of blows had split the outraged skin and the elf lord had bled profusely until Erestor had staunched it with the herbs and bandages Glorfindel had brought back with him from his meeting with Elladan. That, coupled with Elrond's stubborn insistence on using his healing power on Valendil had left him closer to the veil himself than Erestor cared to think upon.

Erestor offered a sip of miruvor from the flask he carried and Elrond swallowed convulsively, tasting bile in the back of his throat. "Come Elrond, try to get it down. You know it will help." His friend and liege opened his mouth obediently and did swallow a small amount. A few minutes later he took another sip and then another. He felt a small shiver as a very little energy flowed through his veins. He straightened just a bit; it was undignified for the ruler of Imladris to lounge in his counselor's arms like this. Erestor smiled; Elrond was feeling better if he could mind his dignity.

"When they come, _you_ will ride a stretcher, my lord."

Elrond struggled to sit yet straighter. "Do not be absurd. I am perfectly capable –"

"Of being placed on the stretcher by force." There was an undercurrent of seriousness in the councilor's voice.

Elrond turned to look at Erestor's face. He noted for the first time the other elf's appearance. "Well, well, this is a sight I have not seen for a long time. You told me those days were over for you. That you would never venture forth so again."

Erestor returned look for look. "My lord was in danger. My meldir and his young son were taken by madness. I could not stay coolly in the library giving advice." He paused, then continued with difficulty, "'Fin and I have not known such fear since the Dark Days, when death snapped at all our heels daily…" he trailed off.

Elrond grasped his friend's hand and they stayed so for a time, each knowing the other's heart even if they did not speak the words.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One week later, Estel was having a surprisingly enjoyable convalescence. He and his father shared a room under the healers' care. Elrond had healed quickly, just as Elladan had said he would. The two were now at nearly the same stage: their welts were fading although the damaged nerves continued to smart and burn. Nonetheless, they were enjoying their time together with long leisurely conversations, games of chess, and visitors who brought sweetmeats and other small gifts. For Elrond, this was an ideal arrangement in another way. He was at hand when his son had the inevitable nightmares, and he could ensure that the discussions that needed to occur did so on his terms and in the way that would best help Estel. As soon as Elrond could leave his bed he tended Estel's hurts himself. He carefully led his son along paths of emotional healing in the same way that he tended the boy's body: ensuring no infection lingered beneath the surface that might return and plague him later.

One afternoon he gently worked a soothing ointment into the boy's welts as Estel lay face down on his bed. His fingertips circled slowly and gently, deliberately soothing and lulling his son into a state of bliss. Elrond waited to speak until Estel was on the verge of either melting into the bed linens altogether or falling asleep. "Ion nin?"

"Mmmmm?"

"What should happen to Valendil?"

The muscles beneath the stroking fingers stiffened and Estel drew a hissing breath. The fingers circled on and Elrond said nothing more. Soon Estel began to relax again; it was hard to resist the hypnotic touch of a master healer. He thought for a time and then answered his father.

"Will you be angry if I say I want him to die?"

"No, Estel. He hurt you badly. It is natural to be angry with him."

"I do not care about that. Or not very much. You were right, Ada, we did laugh again soon, and I am almost well." His tone hardened. "But I can never forgive what he did to you." He turned a little, rising up on one elbow. "Do you forgive him? You can forgive him for – ?" he broke off and laid back down under the insistent pressure of the still circling fingers.

Ah, now here was a danger point. "You wonder how I can forgive him for hurting my son."

"Yes…"

"To be truthful, I shall hear the sound of that chain striking you an Age from now. I may forgive, but I will never forget."

Obscurely comforted, Estel again relaxed, and the muscles beneath the fingers softened.

Elrond continued. "Estel, it is one thing to stop someone like Valendil. That must happen. There were four elves that love you outside the springhouse to ensure he was stopped. And if that had necessitated his death, then so it should be. But he was not killed and now we must deal with him, both he himself and in our minds. I ask again, what should we do with him?"

"I need not forgive him?"

"Not if you do not want to."

Estel was quiet for another long minute before he asked, "He never knew a moment like this, did he? He never felt cared for as I do."

"No, I do not think he ever knew a moment like this. If Maglor did show him some kindness, it was not…it was not anything like what we share here and now, ion nin. The sons of Feanor -" Elrond sighed deeply. "They were, in some ways, magnificent beyond imagining. But all were marred by their father…and still more by the doom that ever shadowed them. Even Elros and I found Maglor more austerely kind than loving. And it appears we had the best of him. Valendil lost the little that had been given him."

"Can I be sorry for him and still not forgive him?"

"I imagine you can." Elrond hesitated and then asked the question. "Are you sorry you did not kill him?" The boy stiffened again but the fingers kept smoothing and stroking, circling and gentling. "Need I take care that you have no dagger while he is in my house?" Now the muscles were hard as stone. Still the hands circled without a change in rhythm or pressure.

"I wanted to kill him. I _did_ want to! I would have if you had not stopped me!" The muscles now quivered but the hands never paused.

"Do you wish I had not?"

This time the silence went on and on before Estel finally said softly, "No. I wanted to kill him but I am glad that you stopped me. I am thankful my hands are not stained with the blood of one both physically helpless and sick in spirit."

Elrond closed his eyes in relief; one bridge safely crossed. Estel continued. "He does not need me to punish him, for he lives in Angband every day, does he not?"

"You are very perceptive, Estel. I believe you have the right of it. There, I think those welts will do for this afternoon. Do you know what is going to happen now?"

Resigned, the boy answered as an aromatic hand gently pressed on his eyelids. "Yes, you are going to make me sleep…"

Smiling, Elrond whispered, "You need very little 'making', my dear son."

And Elrond spoke true for the breath of the young man under his hands had already evened out. The elf lord stood tiredly, wincing a little at the pain that remained from his own ordeal. He drew the covers carefully up and over Estel's marked shoulders, and returned to his own bed. He had been worried, but the healer's heart in his son had been true to its calling. They would have more talks of importance, but Elrond slept well that long afternoon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Valendil was in another wing of the house altogether, at Erestor's and Glorfindel's orders. He was also healing well, although it would be long before a trial could be held. Both advisors visited daily to ensure that he was securely held. He had returned to consciousness but would not speak nor meet the gaze of any. He allowed himself to be tended without complaint or gratitude and seemed to exist in a grey world without emotion. He spent long hours with his eyes closed. Erestor watched him intently and spoke quite audibly to Glorfindel "I believe I will begin spending some mornings in the training yard. When last I ventured, my aim was true."

Glorfindel reassured the dark-haired elf. "It was a good throw; I have told you so before. You had to take care not to hit Elrond. I could not have bettered it in the light there."

"I do not care about the poor showing you would have made; I was always better than you with a knife."

As the two discussed their disappointment with the results of Erestor's attack, they watched Valendil keenly. He never moved or showed by any sign that he heard. Finally, the two advisors nodded to the guard in the room as they left and then spoke to the two guards outside, ensuring their vigilance.

The two old friends continued together toward the healing wing. Glorfindel said, choosing his words with unusual care for one so out-spoken, "I think I lived my entire life over again waiting for Estel to drop that dagger."

"It was a very tense moment, I agree. I was terrified for both him and Elrond."

"What about you? Have the dreams started again? The situation was very similar to -"

Erestor said with finality, "The only dreams I have had are of the four of us failing to arrive in time. Those are bad enough." He changed the subject. "How have your talks with Elrond gone?"

"About as you would expect. He says he needs no attention; that the guilt he feels about Estel's ordeal pales beside what he dealt with at the death of Gil-Galad. He says he can cope just fine without the prodding and probing of an over-the-hill Gondolindrim who spends several days each year wallowing in his own guilt."

Erestor gave a bark of laughter. "That's our lord! You will not listen to him, will you?"

"Of course not. The peredhil are stubborn but I think I have the edge in that regard. And when he is finally ready to face it, I will still be prodding and probing."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End Chapter 7 of 8


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

No warning this chapter

Characters: Everyone in Imladris but no Legolas

-/thoughts/-

Tinu: little star

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Valendil  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was done. The prisoner had been dealt with in less than an hour. He had offered no defense and agreed to all the charges brought against him. Other than yes or no, he had spoken no word. He seemed almost absent in mind, if not in body.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Lord of Imladris sat late in his study, carefully transcribing shorthand notes into proper documentation in the large register that covered half his desk when it was open. There was no expression on his face and no tremble in the hand that moved the quill with precision. He was recording the accusations and decision himself, although Erestor had insisted it was his duty to do so. Elrond had simply stated that he always recorded capital cases himself and this time would be no different. He turned a large vellum leaf of such quality that it was nearly snow-white and began another left-hand column by filling in a date and time. In the right hand column he transcribed the events that matched. "At this time Valendil left the room while greatly agitated and was gone for approximately ten minutes. When next seen by the witness he was carrying Estel Elrondion over his left shoulder. He proceeded to shackle the human to the wall in front of the witness and to remove his shirt in preparation for flogging." The hand holding the quill moved steadily to an adjacent inkwell, refreshed the ink, and then just as smoothly returned to the parchment.

"The witness –"

The hand paused.

"- was unable –"

The hand paused again and a tiny drop of ink fell out of place.

"- to take any action to prevent –"

Another drop fell, due to a small tremor that caused the quill to shimmer in the candlelight.

" – the accused from –"

Two heavier drops fell.

The quill was gently laid aside and a blotter placed upon the page. After a few moments it was removed and Elrond blew on the ink to insure it was dry, then very slowly closed the book. He clasped his hands before him tightly and whispered, "The witness was unable to take any action to prevent Valendil from beating his son before his very eyes." The hands clasped tighter until the knuckles shown white and he gave a dry, gasping sob. A moment later he thrust himself upright with a hoarse shout of anger and a swirl of red and russet. In a fury he grasped the desk and hurled it over on its side.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the Hall of Fire, a wide-eyed young warrior skidded to a halt beside Glorfindel. "My lord! In Lord Elrond's study – I was passing by - " The elf panted and stuttered as Glorfindel rose to his feet. " – something is happening; a fight! –"

Glorfindel clasped the frightened elf briefly by the arm, "It will be seen to. Thank you." He ran from the hall, skirts flapping, while Erestor sailed serenely behind him. As the two turned into the stairs that led to Elrond's quarters, they heard loud crashing noises as well as shouting.

"I believe our lord is ready to discuss his repressed feelings with you now," murmured Erestor.

"I pray I survive the discussion!"

Glorfindel had arrived at Elrond's door, but instead of knocking he simply put one shoulder against it. Erestor grabbed his arm. "Wait! Take off your robe! You will not be agile enough with it on."

The golden warrior nodded and stripped the dark green velvet from him by ripping it down the front. The robe hit the floor at the same moment the door was sprung from its lock. Erestor bent and took up the torn robe, shaking it out sadly. "My dear friend; so distressingly impulsive." He calmly placed the robe neatly over one arm and headed for the dispensary to obtain bandages, herbal teas, ointments, headache powders, and brandy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Inside the room, Glorfindel had ducked several flying objects by rolling across the floor and coming in close to Elrond's feet. He sprang upward and grappled the hysterical elf, wrapping his swordsman's arms tightly about him. Elrond struggled but only for a short time. Then he stilled and said quite calmly, "You may release me, Glorfindel, I am finished rampaging about."

Glorfindel released his lord but frowned at the blank expression in the grey eyes. He led him to a divan and righted it before urging his friend to sit. "Elrond, would you care to explain this little ruction?"

"I lost my temper for a bit. You have seen it happen before."

"Mmmm, yes, once or twice, but something always triggers it. What was it this time?"

Elrond did not reply and Glorfindel looked around the room until he spotted the register. It was never left off the shelf that was its home since it was so large and certain to be in the way. That meant Elrond had been recording the trial. -/Ah./- Glorfindel lifted the book onto a table, opened it to the last entry, and read. He mused thoughtfully, "You must have felt like hell just standing there, doing nothing at all while that demon beat your son to a pulp. Where was the heroic warrior, eh? Where was the father that Estel believed would _never_ let anything bad happen to him, if he were only there to stop it?"

The dull eyes filled with bewildered pain. "How can you say that to me? I…I did not look for such from you, Glorfindel…"

"Neither did I look to have the pain and guilt remaining from the Fall of Gondolin so brutally stripped bare as you did when you saved me from despair. But I needed it then as you do now."

Elrond rose and walked tiredly to the balcony. He suddenly threw his arms out in anguish. "I welcomed him here. I _welcomed_ him into my House. My Power, my foresight; all worth nothing. He nearly killed you, and Erestor, and one of my sons; I have never apologized to you for that. Never apologized for welcoming the elf that took a dagger to one of the most beautiful faces in elvendom. I missed every sign. He wrought havoc unhindered by the mighty Lord Elrond, wisest of the wise! And yes, Glorfindel, I did feel like _hell_ when I was powerless to keep Estel from being…." Elrond was silent a long time and then, looking down, whispered the most damning indictment. "He begged me. He begged me to stop the pain. I hear him crying out in my dreams. 'Ada, stop him! Ada, please make it stop!'."

"Selfish little bastard. He knew you could do nothing. He had no business making things worse for you."

"What! Are you mad! Of course he begged me to save him! I am his _Ada_!"

"Well, surely you took him to task for putting that burden upon you?"

"Took him to task? You are as demented as Valendil! I spent weeks convincing him he did no wrong; that he must not feel ashamed! It was the hardest part of his healing!"

"Neither did _you_ do wrong, Elrond. No force on Arda can predict what madness will do or when it will strike. As I recall, Valendil was beating _you_, not Estel, when Erestor and I finally made our move. And you are not alone in your guilt, Elrond. It is my charge to keep Imladris safe. It was my responsibility and my most desperate intent to find you _before_ harm befell you." The golden warrior stepped up behind his lord and placed a hand on his back. "Elrond, you did all you could possibly do. Estel has told me all that occurred; how you kept a cool head and helped him to deal with what was happening. I heard myself how you diverted Valendil's attention back to yourself. We both know all the words you would tell another in this situation. Tell them to yourself and _believe_ them."

While Glorfindel and Elrond spoke, Erestor had walked onto the balcony and righted an overtuned table. He left his supplies there and listened to the conversation, ascertaining how far Glorfindel had managed to guide their lord and friend. It appeared he was just in time. He walked to Elrond's other side and also placed a hand on his back. Glorfindel's hand slipped away and the marshal stepped backward into the room behind him. Elrond turned toward Erestor to see a sight few were privileged to observe. The piercing dark eyes, normally sarcastic or annoyed or weary with the stupidity of others, were warm and concerned. He said softly, "It is time to give over your grief and guilt, Tinu."

The childhood name broke the lord's control and he moved stiffly into Erestor's hold. Slowly, one by one, bitter tears began to soak the black robe. Long, pale fingers stroked hair almost as dark as Erestor's own as he murmured words spoken at the beginning of the Second Age, then again at the death of Gil-Galad, and most recently, at the departure of Celebrian. Soothing, fond words, first whispered into a frightened youth's ear so many, many years ago. Words that still had the power to warm and heal, even after entire ages had passed.

Glorfindel sighed with relief and said a short prayer of thanksgiving as he quietly left the two alone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The troop of mounted elven warriors were in an unusual formation. They had formed a circle, spears lowered, facing one lone elf who was mounted on the sorriest pack horse in Imladris. Glorfindel, on foot, stood next to his second's horse and spoke quietly. "Do not let anyone harm him, Taurnil. _Anyone_."

There was a world of meaning in the ancient warrior's voice for he knew of the outrage of his adjutant when the decision was handed down. Taurnil's eyes protested but at the stern gaze of his commander he finally nodded. "I will obey you, my lord. As I always have—though I have not always enjoyed my obedience."

Glorfindel smiled. "I do not require enjoyment." His eyes drifted over the elves that waited. "I have not sent Elladan or Elrohir as they would be impossible to deal with on this mission. I will keep them under my hand until you have gone too far for them to follow."

Glorfindel returned his gaze to Taurnil. "I will not have him harmed by my command. Elrond has passed judgment and I, too, obey orders." Taurnil grinned but then sobered as a firm hand reached up and grasped his arm, pulling him down, closer to Glorfindel who lowered his voice. "You have understood me. So long as he is docile, neither you nor your company will touch a hair on his head. But if he tries, by the least move to escape, you will fetch him down. I will not have him loose in Middle-earth to threaten my lord again. Kill him, Taurnil."

Looking directly—as he usually avoided doing—at the scars that still showed faintly on Glorfindel's face, the adjutant straightened and reached behind his shoulder to caress the bow on his back. "If he tries to run he will be found with my fletching in him."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

High above the troops, on the Lord of Imladris' balcony, two stood watching. The shorter of the two had his arms wrapped around himself and the other watched him with concern.

Estel had not seen Valendil since Glorfindel had carried the boy from the springhouse. There was no lack of witnesses against him and Elrond had decided Estel should not attend the trial. He stared with a dreadful fascination at the round-shouldered figure in the courtyard below. This was again a mere wisp of an elf, completely impotent of any power over anyone, including himself.

As if he felt the boy's intense gaze, Valendil raised his eyes from his horse's withers for the first time since he had mounted. He moved his eyes slowly upward, first across the ground to the steps that led to the hall. Then up the wall, seeing the intricate carvings, the ivy and flowers, and the openings to the rooms of each floor. Finally he saw Estel and as their eyes met he also saw Elrond take an abrupt, protecting step to the boy's side. He would not look at the face of Elrond, the enemy who had vanquished him so completely.

But when Valendil's eyes held Estel's the white-haired elf suddenly felt an intense gladness that this boy whom he had tormented was standing safely beside his foster—nay, his _father_—and that his own plans had come to naught. As Estel stood with Elrond's hand against his back, the young man moved one hand in a gesture of blessing. Elrond, not seeing the movement, stared in amazement and some anger as Valendil gave Estel a small, grateful smile before dropping his eyes to his hands again.

Concerned, Elrond said "You do not need to be here, Estel. Go in and bother your brothers. I give you permission!"

The boy smiled. "That is tempting, Ada, but I want to see him go. Otherwise I may not believe he is gone. I have not seen him for two months but I have known that he was here. It has been…unsettling."

Just then a voice spoke from the doorway. "Did you hear that, Elrohir? What we have always suspected is true. Adar _sends_ him to pester us!" The words and tone were lighthearted, but the eyes, looking toward the courtyard, were hard as flint.

Elrond frowned. "I thought you said you would stay within until he is gone."

"I did, but I am sorry, I find I cannot. Like Estel, I must know he is gone." Elrohir stood at his brother's side, nodding his concurrence. Together they walked to the balcony edge and Elrond saw that each carried a bow. Things were getting out of hand.

"Come here! The two of you! Right _here_!" The father had become the elf lord and his sons obeyed, though reluctantly. He lined them up against a wall that did not overlook the balcony and then spoke decisively as he walked back and forth before them.

"You are unhappy with my decision. In spite of your attempts to keep your feelings to yourselves –" The sarcasm fairly dripped from his words. "-I have become aware of them. There are several points you should keep in mind. One! You are not the Lord of Imladris. This was _my_ decision to make. Two! You say you want justice. Then take care, for if I begin meting out justice without mercy there will be two in Imladris whose lives will become much more unpleasant! Three –" Now Elrond turned to face his sons and his voice held frustration. "What should I have done? He was marred in the getting, he was marred in the rearing, he was marred all his life. If I put a broken-winged bird on the floor before you, which of you would take its life without thought?"

Elladan raised his eyes to meet his father's. "Not without thought; but if I could not heal it, I would put it out of its misery."

"I do not think you would find it that easy, my son. And an elf is not a bird. In addition, would you send him to the place where he may find Maedros? I have banished him from all elven kingdoms in Middle-earth and Cirdan will see that he is carried to Valinor—by force if necessary. Perhaps there he can be helped. I could think of nothing else to do. I cannot be held as totally impartial in all this. If I sentence him to death, it will be said by some it is for revenge."

"Ada! They are leaving!"

The three joined Estel and saw the rather odd site of the tightest, grimmest formation of troops the courtyard had ever seen—all to guard one unarmed elf. Two warriors held leading reins; Valendil was not bound and no one was going to chance him taking control of his own mount. The horses clattered over the flagstones as the procession slowly headed away from the House.

Elladan's breath came hard and fast until the procession was completely out of site. He then turned to his father. "Adar, forgive us. We should not have questioned you or increased Estel's distress. It is just – " He broke off and looked out into the courtyard again, a muscle working in his jaw. Elrohir stood beside him and finished what he could not. "It is just that we lost one parent in pain and suffering and we were so very afraid…"

"Oh, my sons." Elrond sighed. He had been so worried about Estel he had totally overlooked the fear his older sons had faced for those hours that must have seemed like an entire age. "I am sorry; that aspect of the situation did not occur to me. Estel, come over here, away from the balcony. He is gone." Soon all three sons stood before him, unsettled and fidgeting. Elrohir and Elladan looked as uncertain as Estel. Elrond rubbed his chin with one long fingered hand as he pondered on how to comfort and reassure two grown elves. He knew what to do with his youngest, but…then he smiled. Perhaps they would prefer not to be treated as 'grown' just now. "I think that this elf lord needs to spend an evening alone with his sons. What shall we do?"

Estel thought for awhile and his brothers watched him, content to let him decide. Suddenly he grinned. "I think we should do what I suggested when this all started! We should all sleep with Ada tonight! Elladan, Elrohir, and I can sleep by the fire and we can have some of the exploding corn that Lolindir discovered and lots of pastries and we can play Long Alley –"

"_In my rooms_?"

"Yes, we can move those old books and the other things –"

"The breakable things?"

"Yes, and we can put the skittles beside your desk and bounce the ball from the –"

"You are surely too old for such nonsense and your brothers will not want to –"

"Oh, yes we will, Ada!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Lord of Imladris lay prone, eyeing the distance to the kingpin and observing the slight imperfections in his polished marble floor. He sprang to his feet, grabbing a beautiful wooden ball as he rose. He tossed the ball idly in his right hand as he frowned down the lane that had been cleared of irrelevant items (such as the only intact urn from Gondolin). Thirty some feet away, the pins and his sons mocked him.

"Come _on_ Ada! Just throw it!"

"Yes, father, it is not like you could hit anything! It has been _how_ many years since you played this game?"

The elf lord, every hair in place, suddenly took two rapid strides forward and hurled the ball down the lane. It bounced once and knocked the kingpin flying. Elrohir, who had bet on his father in the teeth of his brothers' scorn, war whooped and swooped down on the stunned duo. "Pay me! Pay me now!" Elrond dusted his hands daintily and walked smirking to pick up his goblet.

Glorfindel and Erestor, who had come to investigate if there was another lunatic elf loose in Imladris after hearing the ruckus coming from Elrond's quarters, toasted each other. They clinked glasses, smiling, since they, too, had bet on their lord. Erestor was drinking tea but Glorfindel was enjoying the rarest vintage in the cellars. He carried a fistful of a crunchy white substance to his mouth and chased it down with another swallow of wine. He mused that one would not have thought the two would go well together.

Estel looked around the room which was full of warmth, laughter, and love. He felt his eyes sting as gratitude for them all—for his family—filled his heart. The thought flashed through his mind that Valendil was probably bedded down by now, with enough guards for a Nazgul. His bed would be hard and lonely. He marveled that he was able think of the elf without feeling much besides pity. He hoped there would be peace in Valinor for him.

A sudden pain interrupted Estel's musings as Elladan elbowed him sharply. It was Estel's turn and he strode to the hearth poker that marked the throwing point and stooped to pick up the ball. Since his father had taken out the kingpin he could hit any other and score points. He drew his arm back as the final bets were made. He threw with a twist and the ball bounced a little short but still managed to knock down three pins. The extra spin made two of the skittles ricochet off each other and one shot through the air and smacked Glorfindel on the forehead. He went out like a quenched torch. The other hit the wall and fell to the floor without maiming anyone. Erestor pulled out one of Glorfindel's eyelids and peered into the bluer-than-blue eye. "I think he will live. Pay me, Elrohir."

Estel, aghast at what he had done, cried in disbelief, "You bet that I would hurt Glorfindel?"

Erestor looked up with the fabled warrior's eyelid still between his thumb and finger. "Of course not! What do you take me for? I merely bet that you would injure _someone_ tonight."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End "Enchain"

A/N "Long Alley" is an ancient game that some believe is the precursor to bowling. The wooden ball is about the size of a baseball and is thrown in such a way that it should bounce once before striking the skittles.


End file.
